THE  TRAVEL  SERIES  — No.  i 
Published  Weekly  Price,  50  Cents  Annual  Subscription,  $25.00  October  25,  1897 

ENTERED  AT  THE  CHICAGO  POST-OFFICE  AS  SECOND-CLASS  MATTER 


NORWAY 


BY 


JOHN  L.  STODDARD 


Illustrated  and  Embellished  with  One  Hundred 

and  Twenty-eight  Reproductions 

of  Photographs 


CHICAGO 
BELFORD,  MIDDLEBROOK  &  COMPANY 

MDCCCXCVII 


Copyright,  1897,  by  John  L.  Stoddard 


NORWAY 


BY 


JOHN  L.STODDARD 


ILLUSTRATED  AND   EMBELLISHED  WITH 
ONE    HUNDRED    AND    TWENTY- 
EIGHT    REPRODUCTIONS 
OF  PHOTOGRAPHS 


CHICAGO 

BELFORD,  MIDDLEBROOK    &   COMPANY 

MDCCCXCVII 


Copyright,  1897 
By  John  L.  Stoddard 


Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London 
all  rights  reserved 


PREFACE 

A  WITTY  French  abbe  was  once  asked  why  he  kept  up 
a  country-seat  which  he  never  visited.  "  Do  you 
not  know,"  he  answered,  "that  I  must  have  some 
place,  where,  though  I  never  go  to  it,  I  can  always  imagine 
that  I  might  be  happier  than  where  I  am?"  The  world  is 
like  the  abbe.  Most  of  us  are  not  living,  we  are  anticipating 
life.  We  are  always  "going  to  our  country-seats."  It  is 
the  land  we  have  not  visited  that  is  to  give  to  us  our  greatest 
happiness.  If  we  have  not  yet  found  it  in  America,  it  is 
awaiting  us  in  Europe;  if  not  in  Europe,  surely  in  Japan. 
As  the  Germans  say,  "  Da  wo  ich  nicht  bin,  da  ist  das 
Gliick."  Hence  travel  is  attractive,  if  only  as  a  means  of 
acquiring  that  happiness  which  here  seems  so  elusive.  All 
of  us  hope  to  some  day  visit  Europe  and  the  Orient,  and 
for  that  reason  everything  pertaining  to  their  beauty,  art 
and  history  seems  alluring.  But  when  these  have  been  seen, 
the  wished-for  goal  of  the  untraveled  world  again  recedes, 
and  the  desire  is  just  as  strong  to  visit  other  and  more  dis- 
tant lands. 

This  love  of  travel  is  not  caused  by  ordinary  restlessness. 
It  springs  originally  from  the  universal  craving  of  the  soul 
for  something  different  from  its  usual  environment. 

It  also  comes  from  a  legitimate  longing  for  that  broader 
education  which  only  personal  study  of  other  races,  civiliza- 
tions and  religions  can  bestow.  And,  finally,  it  arises  from  a 
yearning  for  the  joy  and  benefit  of  realizing  history  by  visit- 
ing the  ancient  shrines  of  art,  the  homes  or  sepulchres  of 
heroes,  and  the  arenas  of  heroic    deeds.      When   such   desires 

5 


6  PREFACE 

are  once  awakened,  to  travel  is  to  live,  to  remain  continually 
in  one  place  is  to  stagnate. 

Thousands  of  books  of  travel  have  been  written,  but  not- 
withstanding that  the  scenes  described  in  them  are  practically 
the  same,  and  though  the  streets  and  buildings  which  adorn 
their  text  are  perfectly  familiar  to  their  readers,  such  works  are 
usually  welcome,  and  always  in  proportion  to  the  degree  in 
which  mere  figures  and  statistics  are  subordinated  to  the  ideas 
suggested  by  such  travel  to  the  writer's  mind,  which,  of  course, 
vary  infinitely  according  to  the  culture,  sympathy  and  enthu- 
siasm of  the  individual.  Thus,  in  a  similar  way,  the  keys  of 
all  pianos  are  the  same;  yet  it  is  not  the  bits  of  ivory  them- 
selves that  hold  us  spell-bound,  but  the  magnetic  fingers  that 
move  over  them,  and  the  musical  interpretation  and  expres- 
sion given  by  the  performer. 

If  only  accurate  statistics  and  detailed  descriptions  were 
desired,  guide-books  would  be  sufficient ;  but  who  ever  reads 
a  guide-book  for  amusement? 

Such  thoughts  have  encouraged  the  author  of  these  vol- 
umes to  present  in  printed  form  lectures  which  for  eighteen 
years  have  been  received  with  never-failing  kindness  by  an 
indulgent  public.  Verba  volant;  Script  a  manent  (Words  are 
fleeting,  but  what  is  written  remains).  The  voice  of  the 
speaker  dies  away,  and  what  he  says  is  soon  forgotten,  but  on 
these  printed  pages,  that  which  has  really  caused  whatever 
success  the  "Stoddard  Lectures"  have  achieved,  may  be 
recalled  precisely  as  the  lectures  were  heard,  accompanied 
too  by  even  more  embellishment  than  illustrated  them 
at  the  time  of  their  delivery.  It  has  always  given  the  writer 
a  singular  sensation  to  meet  his  audiences  season  after  season 
after  the  separation  of  a  year.  Were  they  the  same  individ- 
uals whom  he  had  last  addressed?  He  could  not  tell.  They 
could  be  absolutely  sure  of  his  identity,  but  he  was  quite 
unable  to  determine  theirs.      Beyond  the  curve  of  platform 


PREFACE  7 

or  of  stage,  he  could  not  distinguish  the  auditors  of  former 
years  from  those  who  were  seated  there  for  the  first  time. 
Sometimes  they  seemed  to  him  scarcely  more  real  and  tangi- 
ble than  were  the  views  that  came  and  went  so  noiselessly 
upon  the  screen.  He  looked  for  a  few  moments  at  an  amphi- 
theatre of  expectant  faces,  then  darkness  would  transform 
them  into  rows  of  phantoms,  and  at  the  end  he  saw  them 
rise  and  disappear,  like  a  great  fleet  of  ships  that  separates 
and  scatters  on  a  trackless  sea. 

In  these  volumes,  however,  he  hopes  to  meet  his  audi- 
ences more  frequently,  and  for  a  longer  time  than  ever  before. 
If,  then,  the  oral  lectures  may  have  given  the  public  some 
enjoyment  in  the  past,  it  is  the  author's  hope  that  when  he 
himself  no  longer  greets  his  former  listeners,  year  by  year, 
these  souvenirs  of  travel  may  in  this  form  find  a  more  endur- 
ing place  among  the  pleasures  of  their  memories. 

In  that  case  he  will  not  be  utterly  forgotten,  for  pleasant 
memories  can  never  be  taken  from  us ;  they  are  the  only  joys 
of  which  we  can  be  absolutely  sure. 


S 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2011  with  funding  from 

Research  Library,  The  Getty  Research  Institute 


http://www.archive.org/details/norwaychicagobelOOstod 


NORWAY 


OF    all    the    countries    on    our  globe,    Norway,    in    some 
respects,    must   rank  as   the   most  wonderful.      From 
the   North  Cape   to   its  most   southern  limit   the  dis- 
tance is  about  eleven  hundred  miles.      Nearly  one-third  of  this 
great  area  lies  within  the  Arctic   circle.       One  would   expect 

its  climate   to   be  that   of       r -     ~ -, 

Greenland ;  but  Nature 
saves  it,  as  a  habitation 
for  the  race,  by  sending 
thither  the  mysterious 
Gulf  Stream,  which  crosses 
the  Atlantic  for  five 
thousand  miles,  and,  al- 
though far  spent  on  that 
distant  shore,  fulfills  its 
mission,  transforming,  by 
its  still  warm  breath,  an 
otherwise  barren  region  to 
a  fertile  land.  But  this  is 
only  the  beginning  of  Nor- 
way's wonders.  Exposed 
to  all  the  fury  of  the  North  Sea,  Arctic  and  Atlantic,  the 
navigation  of  its  coast  would  be  well-nigh  impossible  had  not 
indulgent  Nature  made  here  countless  breakwaters,  by  means 
of  a  vast  fringe  of  islands  more  than  a  thousand  miles  in 
length,  behind  which  are  smooth,  sheltered  channels  for  the 
largest  ships. 


KING   OSCAR    II. 


12 


NORWAY 


Again,    Norwegian   mountains    come   directly   to   the   sea. 
On   this   account,  one   might   suppose  that   the   interior  would 
be  inaccessible.      But  Nature  does  here  one  more  act  of  kind- 
ness,   and    penetrates    these    mountain   walls    at   many   points 
with   ocean   avenues,    sometimes   a  hundred   miles   in   length, 
and   with   such   depth   that,    at   their  farthest   limits,   steamers 
may  come  directly   to   the   shore.      Moreover,  to   enhance   its 
mystery  and   beauty,    Nature   bestows  on   this,    her  favorite, 
a  day  that  is  a  summer  long,  —  a   light   that  never  elsewhere 
was  on  land  or  sea, 
• —  and     makes     its 
splendid  vistas  still 
more  glorious  by  a 
midnight  sun. 

There  have  been 


THE    HARBOR    OK    CHRISTI ANIA. 


few  experiences  in 
my  life  more  joy- 
ous and  exhilarat- 
ing than  my  arrival 
in  Christiania.  It 
was  six  o'clock  in 
the  morning  as  our 
steamer  glided  up  its  noble  harbor.  The  sky  was  cloudless; 
the  water  of  the  deepest  blue;  a  few  white  sails  rose  here  and 
there,  like  sea-gulls,  from  the  waves.  The  forest-covered 
islands,  emerald  to  the  water's  edge,  seemed  gems  upon  the 
bosom  of  the  bay.  Beyond,  were  mountains  glistening  in 
an  atmosphere,  the  like  of  which,  for  clearness,  I  had  never 
seen.  While  the  first  breath  of  that  crisp,  aromatic  air  (a 
most  delicious  blending  of  the  odors  of  mountain,  sea,  and 
forest;  can   never  be   forgotten. 


NORWAY 


13 


THE   VICTORIA    HOTEL. 


"This,  this 
is  Norway!" 
we  exclaimed, 
"  and  it  is  all 
before  us;  first, 
in  the  joy  of  ex- 
ploration ;  then 
in  the  calmer, 
though  perpet- 
ual, pleasure  of 
its  retrospec- 
tion." 

Excited  by 
our  anticipa- 
tions, we  dis- 
embarked as 
speedily  as  possible,  and  hastened  to  the  Hotel  Victoria.  It 
is  a  well-kept,  comfortable  hostelry,  whose  chief  peculiarity 
is  a  spacious  courtyard,  where  frequently,  in  summer,  table 
d'hote  is  served  beneath  a  mammoth  tent  of  gorgeous  colors. 
Moreover,  it  is  a  pleasant  rendezvous  for  travelers;  for 
while  some  tourists  are  here  setting  forth  upon  their  inland 
journey,  others  have  just  completed  it, 
and  with  bronzed  faces  tell  strange 
stories  of  the  North,  which  sound  like 
tales  invented   by  Munchausen. 

Impatient  to  arrange  our  route,  after 
a  breakfast  in  the  hotel  courtyard  we 
went  directly  to  the  individual  known 
as  "Bennett."  "Bennett?  Who  is 
Bennett?  "  the  reader  perhaps  exclaims, 
My  friend,  there  is  but  one  Norway, 
and  Bennett  is  its  prophet.  Bennett 
theZe™r,end.  is  the  living  encyclopaedia  of    Norway; 


S»^ 


■ 


14 


NORWAY 


its  animated  map;  its  peripatetic  guide-book.  Nor  is  this 
all.  He  is  the  traveler's  guide,  philosopher,  and  friend. 
He  sketches  lengthy  tours  back  and  forth  as  easily  as  sailors 
box  the  compass;  tells  him  which  roads  to  take  and  which 
to  avoid;  sends  word  ahead  for  carriages  and  horses; 
engages  rooms  for  him  within  the  Arctic  circle;  for- 
wards his  letters,  so  that  he  may  read  them  by  the  mid- 
night sun;  gives  him  a  list  of  carriage-coupons  which  the 
coachmen   cry    for;    and    (more    important    still)    so    plans    his 


3BBWS 


A    NORTHEKN   LANDSCAPE. 


numerous  arrivals  and  departures  on  the 
coast  that  he  shall  always  find  a  train  or  steamer  there 
awaiting  him.  This  is  a  most  essential  thing  in  Norway. 
As  a  rule,  Norwegian  time-tables  are  about  as  difficult 
to  decipher  as  the  inscriptions  on  a  Chinese  tea-caddy.  Even 
Bradshaw,  the  author  of  that  English  railway  guide  which 
is  tin:  cause  of  so  much  apoplexy,  came  here  to  Norway 
a  few  years  ago,  and  died  in  trying  to  make  out  its  post-road 
and    railway    system.      Some    think    that    it    was    a   judgment 


IN    NORWAY. 


NORWAY 


i/ 


on  him.  At  all  events,  his  grave  is  near  Christiania,  and  he 
sleeps,  while  the  "globe-trotter,"  whom  he  long  befriended, 
still  rushes  to  and  fro. 

Although  an  Englishman  by  birth,  "Bennett"  has  been 
for  fifty  years  a  resident  of  Norway,  and  is  a  blessing  to  all 
travelers  in  that  country.  At  first  he  gave  his  services  gratu- 
itously; but  as  the  tourists  began  to  multiply,  he  found  that 
such  disinterestedness  was  impossible.  He  at  length  made 
a  business  of  it,  and  year  by  year  it  has  steadily  increased. 

A  new  edition  of  his  guide-book  comes  out  every  season ; 
and  to  still  further  help  the  public,  he  has  begotten  four 
young  Bennetts,  who  act  as  courteous  agents  for  their 
father,  in  Bergen,  Trondhjem,  and  Christiania.  He  has 
no  "personally  conducted 
parties."  He  has  no  wish 
to  go  outside  of  Norway. 
But  here,  on  account  of 
the  peculiar  style  of  travel- 
ing, and  the  difficulty  of  the 
language,  it  certainly  is  a 
great  convenience  to  employ 
him. 

Our  arrangements  with 
this  guardian  of  Norwegian 
tourists  having  at  length 
been  concluded,  we  strolled 
for  some  time  through  Chris- 
tiania's  streets.  It  is  a  clean 
and  cheerful  city,  though  it 
can  boast  of  little  architect- 
ural beauty.  The  Royal 
Palace  is  its  finest  building, 
but  even  this,  on  close  in- 
spection, proves  to  be  more 


CHRISTIANIA    FJORD. 


i8 


NORWAY 


THE    PALACE    AT   CHRISTIANIA. 


useful  than  or- 
namental, and 
well  suited  to  a 
nation  forced  to 
practice  strict 
economy.  In 
inspecting  the 
structure  it  is 
interesting  to 
remember  h  o  w 
i  n  d  e  p  e  n  d  e  n  t 
Norway  is  of  Sweden,  although  both  countries  are  governed 
by  one  King,  The  Parliament  in  Christiania  is  wholly  sepa- 
rate from  that  of  Stockholm.  No  Swede  may  hold  political 
office  here.  Even  the  power  of  the  King  is  limited ;  for 
if  a  bill  is  passed  three  times  in  the  Norwegian  Parliament, 
then,  notwithstanding  the  royal  veto,  it  becomes  law. 

Moreover,  in  accordance  with  the  Constitution,  the  King 
of  Sweden  and  Norway  must  be  crowned  in  Norway ;  he  must 
reside  here  three  months  in  the  year;  here,  also,  he  must 
open  Parliament  in  person,  and  hold  receptions,  for  no  Nor- 
wegian wishes  to  go  to  Stockholm  for  a  presentation  to 
his  sovereign.  In  this  portion  of  his  realm,  also,  he  must 
be  addressed  as  "King  of  Norway  and  Sweden,"  not  of 
"Sweden     and  ^ ■"■^■^^k.  Norway."        A 

certain  rival-      ^^^  ^^^         ry  still  ex- 

ists  be-       ^r  -  '  ^^^        tween 

these       Jr  m      .        ,  fli      mA^— m<m^— I Mi  two 


A    VIEW    NEAB   CHRISTIANIA 


NORWAY 


19 


AN   AMBIGUOUS    SIGN. 


nations.  Norwegians 
sometimes  say :  "We  love 
the  English,  and  drink 
tea;  the  Swedes  love 
the  French,  and  drink 
coffee !  " 

One  of  the  first  things 
that  attracted  my  atten- 
tion in  my  walks  through 
Christiania  was  the  pe- 
culiar sign,  "  Rum  for 
Resande."  Judge  not,  however,  from  appearances  in  this 
strange  language  of  the  north.  It  is  said  that  not  long  ago 
an  English-speaking  traveler  of  strong  prohibition  principles 
was  horrified  at  seeing  this  announcement  frequently  displayed. 

"  What  does  that  last  word  '  Resande  '  mean?"  he  asked 
suspiciously. 

"  Travelers,"  was  the  reply. 

"Rum  for  travelers!"  he  exclaimed.  "Oh,  this  is  ter- 
rible! What  an  insult  to  the  traveling  public!  Now  I,  for  one, 
protest  against  such  misrepresentation.  I  am  a  traveler,  but 
I  never  take  a  drop  of  rum." 


A    BIT   OF   NORWAY. 


20 


NORWAY 


LAKE    MJOSEN. 


"  Not  quite 
so  fast,"  re- 
joined a  Nor- 
wegian, w  h  o 
was  laughing 
heartily;  '  that 
first  word 
means,  not 
rum,  but  rooms; 
the  whole  sen- 
tence, there- 
fore, merely 
signifies,  '  lodg- 
ing for  travel- 
ers.' "  Eager 
to     start     upon 

our  northward  journey,  we  left  some  interesting  features  in 
Christiania  for  a  later  visit,  and  on  a  beautiful  June  morn- 
ing set  out  for  the  coast.  The  train  conveyed  us  in  two 
hours  to  Lake  Mjosen,  where  we  embarked  upon  a  little 
steamer.  From  that  time  on,  al- 
though continually  traveling,  we 
saw  no  more  railways  for  a  month. 
This  lovely  sheet  of  water  has  a 
marvelous  depth,  its  bed,  in  places, 
being  one  thousand  feet  below  the 
level  of  the  sea.  This  fact  grows 
more  mysterious  when  we  remem- 
ber that  on  the  occasion  of  the 
Lisbon  earthquake,  in  1755,  the 
waters  of  this  lake,  although  so 
remote  from  Portugal,  were  so  ter- 
ribly disturbed,  that  they  rose 
suddenly  to  the   height   of  twenty 


NORWAY 


2  I 


feet,  and  then  as 
suddenly  sub- 
sided. 

It  was  while 
sailing  on  the 
waters  of  Lake 
Mjosen  that  we 
had  another  curi- 
ous linguistic  ex- 
perience. Next 
to  Norwegian  or 
Swedish,  English 
is  best  under- 
stood and  spoken 
by  the  natives-,  especially  among  the  seafaring  population. 
We  did  not  know  this  fact  at  first,  and  as  we  had  just  come 
from  Germany,  it  seemed  more  natural  to  address  the  people 
in  the  Teutonic  tongue.  You  know  the  German  word  for 
bright  or  clear  is  "hell."  Accordingly,  desiring  to  ask  the 
captain  if  he  thought  that  the  weather  would  be  fine,  my  friend 


IN   THE    HEAKT   OF   NOK\\A\. 


NORWAY 


stepped   up  to  him,  and  pointing  to  the  sky,  said  interroga- 
tively, "  Hell?  "' 

"No,"  replied  the  captain,  in  perfectly  good  English, 
"  hell  doesn't  lie  in  that  direction!  " 

A  sail  of  several  hours  here  through  charming  scenery 
brought  us  at  last  to  the  place  where  we  were  to  disembark. 
Hardly  had  I  set  foot  upon  the  pier,  when  a  man  accosted 
me  in  good,  familiar  English: 

"  Just  step  this  way,  sir,  if  you  please,"  he  said;  "  the  car- 
riage ordered  for  you  by  Mr.  Bennett  is  all  ready." 

This  surely  was  a  pleasant   introduction.      There  was  no 

trouble   whatsoever — no    bargaining,    no    delay.      In    fifteen 

minutes  we  had  started  on  our  four  days'  journey  to  the  sea. 

Between    Christiania   and    the   western  coast    is    a    broad 

mountain  range  extending  hundreds  of  miles  north  and  south. 

No  railroad  crosses  that 
gigantic  barrier.  True, 
the  town  of  Trondhjem, 
in  the  north,  can  now  be 
reached  circuitously  by 
rail.  But  all  the  great 
southwestern  coast,  in- 
cluding the  towns  of  Ber- 
gen and  Molde,  and  the 
large  fjords,  can  only  be 
approached  by  several 
magnificent  highways,  of 
which  the  finest  here 
awaited  us,  the  one  ex- 
tending for  a  hundred 
and  sixty  miles  from  Lake 
Mjosen  to  the  Songe  fjord.  And  here  one  naturally  asks, 
'•'  What  is  the  mode  of  traveling  in  Norway?  Where  do  you 
eat?    Where  do  you  sleep?    Do  you  take  horses  for  the  entire 


giETERSDALEN. 


NORWAY 


0 


journey,  or  from  day  to  day?"  It  is  easily  explained.  All 
these  Norwegian  highways  are  divided  into  sections,  each 
about  ten  miles  long.  These  sections  have  at  one  extremity 
a  "station" 


(usually  a  farm- 
house), the  own- 
er of  which  is 
obliged  by  law 
to  give  to  travel- 
ers food  and 
lodging,  and  also 
to  supply  them 
with  fresh  horses 
to  the  next  sta- 
tion. 

These  Nor- 
wegian post- 
houses  are  in- 
variably made  of 
wood,  sometimes  elaborately  carved  and  decorated.  As  you 
approach  the  door,  some  member  of  the  family  greets  you, 
frequently  in  English,  since  many  of  these  people  have  been  in 
America.  If  you  desire  to  spend  the  night,  you  ask  for  rooms. 
If  you  merely  require  dinner,  you  can  be  quickly  served; 
or  if  your  purpose  is  to  drive  on  still  farther,  you  simply 
order  fresh  horses.  For  these  we  never  waited  more  than 
fifteen  minutes,  though  sometimes,  in  the  height  of  the  season, 
serious  delays  take  place.  On  this  account  it  is  better  to  pre- 
cede the  crowd  of  tourists,  and  visit  Norway  early  in  the 
summer.  Such  has  been  my  experience,  at  least;  and  judg- 
ing from  some  stories  I  have  heard  of  tourists  sleeping 
on  the  floor  and  dressing  on  the  back  piazza,  I  should  em- 
phatically recommend  this  rule  to  all  adventurers  in  the  land 
of  Thor. 


FINE    NORWEGIAN    STATION. 


26 


NORWAY 


But  speaking 
of  Norwegian 
post-stations  re- 
minds one  of  the 
characteristic  ve- 
hicle of  Norway, 
—  the  cariole. 
This  is  by  no 
means  a  "carry- 
all." It  is  a  little  gig,  intended  for  only  one  person.  True, 
the  boy  (or,  in  some  instances,  the  girl)  who  takes  the  horse 
back  after  you  have  done  with  it,  rides  behind.  His  seat  is 
your  valise,  and  his  weight  determines  the  subsequent  con- 
dition of  its  contents!  There  is  a  charming  lightness  in  these 
cariolcs.  The  springs  are  good,  and  the  seat  is  easy.  A 
leather  apron  reaches  to  your  waist  to  shield  you  from  the 
dust  or  rain;  and,  drawn  by  a  Norwegian  pony,  such  a  drive 
is  wonderfully  exhilarating. 

These  little  carriages  have,  however,  one  great  fault,  — 
their  want  of  sociability.  The  linguistic  powers  of  a  Norwe- 
gian post-boy  are  extremely  limited;  and  when  you  have 
ridden  ten  hours 
a  day,  unable  to 
exchange  a  word 
with  your  friends 
except  by  shout- 
ing, the  drive  be- 
comes a  trifle 
wearisome.  But 
the  reader  may 
ask :  "Is  there 
not  sometimes 
great  discomfort 
in     traveling    by 


THE    NATIONAL    VEHICLE. 


NORWAY 


-7 


LUXURY   IN    NORWAY. 


canoles  in  rainy 
weather?  "  As- 
suredly there  is. 
But  in  such 
weather  one  is 
not  obliged  to 
take  a  cariole. 
Norway  has 
other  vehicles. 
We    drove,    for 

example,  about  a  hundred  and  thirty  miles  in  a  sort  of 
victoria,  the  rear  of  which  could  be  entirely  covered  in 
case  of  rain.  This,  all  in  all,  I  hold  to  be  the  best  con- 
veyance for  the  tourist  in  Norway,  especially  when  ladies 
are  of  the  party.  I  know  that  such  a  carriage  is  considered 
too  luxurious  by  the  English;  but  I  am  sure  that  Ameri- 
can ladies  will  gain  more  pleasure  and  profit  from  Norwegian 
travel  if  they  do  not  attempt  to  drive  all  day  in  carioles; 
and  if  beneath  the  canopy  provided  they  keep  their  cloth- 
ing dry. 

At  home  we  would  not  think  of  driving  forty  miles  a  day 
in  an  open  wagon  through  the  rain;  why,  then,  should 
we  do  it  unnecessarily  in  Norway, 
where  showers  are  proverbially  both 
frequent  and  copious?  As  for  the  fun 
and  novelty  of  cariole-riding,  these 
can  always  be  had,  for  several  hours 
at  a  time,  between  one  station  and 
another,  even  if  one  has  engaged  a 
larger  carriage  for  the  entire  journey, 
for  the  cost  of  a  cariole  and  pony  for 
half  a  day  is  ludicrously  small,  and 
the  change  to  it,  occasionally,  well 
repays   the   slight    expenditure. 


A    PEASANT   GIRL. 


28 


NORWAY 


But  in  thus  speaking  of  the  cariole,  I  have  unwittingly 
put  the  cart  before  the  horse.  A  word  of  praise  must  certainly 
be  given  to  the  usual  Norwegian  steed.  Of  all  the  ponies  I 
have  ever  seen,    these  of  Norway  are  at  once  the  strongest, 


A   NORWEGIAN    PONY. 


prettiest,  and.  most  lovable.  They  are  usually  of  a  delicate 
cream  color,  with  one  dark  line  along  the  back,  the  mane 
being  always  closely  cut.  These  ponies  are  employed  in  Norway 
almost  universally,  being  not  only  less  expensive  but  really 
more  en- 
during than 
the  larger 
horses.  For 
w  e e  k  s  we 
drove  behind 
these  little 
animals,  till 
we  had  test- 
ed certainly 
seventy-  five 

of  them,  and  never  once  did  we  observe  in  any  of  them  the 
slightest  ugliness  or  a  vicious  trait.  They  are,  moreover,  won- 
derfully sure-footed.  I  never  saw  one  stumble  or  go  lame. 
Possibly,  later  in   the  season,  when   much   over-worked,  they 


I  ARM    SCE  '.  I'  . 


NORWAY 


29 


t% 


Irani 

If  Ml 


may  not  have  the  spirit  which  we  found  in  them;   but  in    our 
drives    of  more  than   two    hundred   miles    there  was   not   one 
which  did  not   cheerfully  re- 
spond   to    any    call. 

This  being  premised,  let 
us  really  begin  our  jour- 
ney. At  first  we  found  the 
scenery  more  beautiful  than 
grand.  In  many  places  I 
could  have  believed  myself 
in  portions  of  either  of  the 
American  states  of  New 
Hampshire  or  Vermont. 
Across  the  fields  I  often 
noticed  long,  dark  lines 
which,  in  the  distance,  look- 
ed like  hedges.  On  ex- 
amination, however,  these 
proved  to  be  wooden  fences, 
covered  with  new  -  mown 
grass;  for,  in  this  way,  Nor- 
wegian farmers  ''make  hay 
while  the  sun  shines."  Some 
of  these  fences  are  very  low, 
but  others  have  considerable 
height.  Norwegian  farmers 
claim  that  grass  hung  thus, 
and  thoroughly  exposed  to 
wind  and  sun,  will  shed  the 
rain  and  dry  more  quickly 
than  if  left  upon  the  ground. 
Their  theory  seems  reasonable,  and  the  extent  of  the  hay 
crop,  which  is  very  important,  further  justifies  it.  There  is 
one   other   argument   in    favor    of   these   hay-racks,  —  during 


A    MAl'D    MILLER. 


3Q 


NORWAY 


all  other  seasons  of  the  year  they  serve  as  clothes-lines  for 
the  family  washing.  But  even  more  peculiar  than  the  fences 
were  the  vehicles  used  for  hauling  the  hay  into  Norwe- 
gian barns.  We 
laughed  at  first 
sight  of  these 
rustic  carts. 
They  are  only  a 
trifle  larger  than 
a  good-  sized 
cradle,  and  are 
perched  upon 
the  smallest 
wheels  I  ever 
saw  on  anything  except  a  toy.  Yet  there  is  good  reason 
for  their  use,  for  on  Norwegian  farms  the  loads  are  drawn, 
not  by  stout  oxen,  but  by  little  ponies. 
Moreover,  the  grass  is  often  cut  from 
the  edge  of  precipices,  or  in  deep 
ravines,  and  these  low  carts  are 
certainly  better  adapted  than  high 
and  heavy  ones  for  locomotion  in 
such   regions. 

While  thus  absorbed  in  agri- 
cultural reflections,  we  drove  up  to 
the  house  where  we  were  to  take 
supper.  A  pleasant-featured  girl, 
with  a  baby  in  her  arms,  invited 
us  to  enter.  She  spoke  Eng- 
lish perfectly,  having  been  born, 
as  we  learned,  in  Minneapolis. 
I  shall  never  forget  that  first  Norwegian  supper.  The  name 
for  the  evening  mea]  jn  Norway  is  "aftenmad,"  but  often- 
mad  would    better  express  it   in   English.      First,  there  were 


AT   A    FARM    HOI'S  E. 


NORWAY 


3i 


placed  before  us  five  different  kinds  of  cheese,  the  most 
remarkable  of  which  was  a  tall  monument  of  chocolate-colored 
substance  made  from  goat's  milk.  This,  by  Norwegians, 
is  considered  perfectly  delicious;  but  for  a  month  I  shuddered 
at  it  regularly  three  times  a  day.  Next  was  brought  in  a  jar 
containing  fish.     At  this  my  friend  smiled  joyfully. 


A    NORWEGIAN    HAY-FIELD. 


"Ah,"  he  exclaimed,  "here  is  fish!  Anything  in  the 
line  of  fish  I  can  eat  with  a  relish." 

He  drew  a  specimen  from  the  jar,  and  put  a  portion 
of  it  in  his  mouth.  A  look  of  horror  instantly  overspread 
his  face,  and,  covering  his  features  with  a  napkin,  he  left 
the  room  in  haste.  I  quickly  followed  him,  and  found  him 
in  the  back  yard  gazing  mournfully  at  some  Norwegian  swine. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  I  asked,  "do  you  prefer  pork 
to  fish?  " 

"  I  believe  I  do,"  he  rejoined.  Then  turning  to  the  girl, 
who  had  followed  us,  he  inquired,  "What  is  the  Norwegian 
word  for  pork?  " 


32 


NORWAY 


"Griss,  "*  was 

the  reply. 

"Thank you, " 
he  faltered,  "  I 
don't  think  I 
will  take  any  to- 
day. " 

' '  Eh  ' '  (in  an 
aside  to  me), 
"  had  n't  vvc  bet- 
ter drive  on?  " 


Dri 


ve    on  i 


■  DO   YOU    PREFER    PORK   TO    FISH  ?  " 


I  cried.  "  Drive 
on,  when  there 
is  plenty  of  fish,  which  you  always  eat  with  so  much  relish?  " 

"  Great  heavens!  "  he  groaned,  "  that  was  too  much  even 
for  me.      It  was  a  raw  anchovy  dipped  in  vinegar." 

While  this  colloquy  was  taking  place,  we  re-entered  the 
dining-room  and  asked  for  bread.  We  were  amazed  to  see 
what  this  request  brought  forth.  Upon  a  plate  almost 
as  large  as  the  wheel  of  a  Norwegian  hay-cart  was  brought 
to  us  a  mound  of  circular  wafers  nearly  three  feet  in  circum- 
ference, and  each  about  as  thick  as  one  of  our  buckwheat  cakes. 


*  Pronounced  as  is  our  English   word  grease. 


NORWAY 


33 


They  were  made  of  rye  meal  and  water  (chiefly  water),  and 
were  so  crisp  that  they  would  break  to  pieces  at  a  touch. 
This  is  called  "  flatbrod,"  and  it  is  certainly  in  every  sense  the 
flattest  article  ever  invented  for  the  human  stomach.  The 
people,  however,  are  fond  of  it,  and  I  saw  horses  eat  it  fre- 
quently, mistaking  it  (quite  naturally,  I  am  sure)  for  tablets 
of  compressed  hay. 

But  here  I  shall  probably  be  asked,  "  Is  this  the  usual 
state  of  things  in  Norway?"  No,  this  first  station  was 
unusually  poor.  The  staple  article  of  food  in  Norway 
(always  fresh  and  good)  is  salmon.  Milk  and  sweet  butter 
can  also  be  had,  and  eggs  ad  libitum.  In  fact,  the  abund- 
ance of  eggs  here  is  probably  responsible  for  the  atrocious 
witticism  often  perpetrated  by  Norwegian  tourists,  to  the 
effect  that  "if  the  sun  does  not  set  in  Norway,  hens  do." 
Mutton  and  beef  are  not  obtainable,  save  at  the  large  hotels, 
their  places  being  usually  supplied  by  veal,  sausage  meat, 
or  reindeer  hash.  I  met,  while  traveling  here,  an  Englishman, 
who  said   to   me,    "I   did   intend   to  drive  on  to   Christiania; 


NORWAY    SCENERY 


34 


NORWAY 


but  I  really  can't,  you  know;  another  month  of  this  would 
kill  me.  In  the  last  two  weeks  I  have  eaten  so  many  of  these 
'  blasted  eggs  '  that  I  'm  ashamed  to  look  a  hen  in  the  face!  " 
Yet,  notwithstanding  the  hardships  which  the  traveler  meets 
in    Norway   in    regard   to    food,    he   will    find    all    discomforts 

easily  outweigh- 
ed by  the  en- 
joyment of  the 
trip.  The  con- 
stant exercise  in 
the  open  air 
gives  powers 
of  digestion 
hitherto  un- 
known, pre- 
ceded by  an  ap- 
petite which 
laughs  at  every- 
thing,     

save  cheese.  Of 
course,  being  so 
far  from  any  city,  one  cannot  look  for  luxuries  at  these 
small  stations;  indeed,  I  was  surprised  to  find  that  the 
peasants  knew  enough  to  give  us,  during  a  meal,  several 
knives  and  forks,  hot  plates,  and  other  features  of  a  well- 
served  table.  And  as  far  as  prices  are  concerned,  they  are  so 
moderate  as  to  provoke  a  smile  from  any  one  accustomed  to 
travel  in  other  parts  of  Europe. 

Yes,  all  ordinary  discomforts  sink  into  insignificance, 
as  I  recall  those  memorable  drives,  day  after  day  and  hour 
after  hour,  oxer  lofty  mountains,  through  noble  forests,  and 
beside  stupendous  cliffs,  the  only  sounds  about  us  being 
the  songs  of  birds  and  the  perpetual  melody  of  numberless 
cascades.      Moreover,  this  mode  of  travel  gave  us  the  energy 


A   TKAVELEK  S    FAKADISE. 


NORWAY 


35 


of  athletes.  For  how  can  I  describe  the  invigoration  and 
sweetness  of  this  Norway  air, — pure  from  these  miles  of 
mountains,  —  rich  with  the  fragrance  of  a  billion  pines,  and 
freshened  by  its  passage  over  northern  glaciers  and  the  Arctic 
sea? 

As  for  the  roads  in  Norway,  they  are  among  the  finest 
in  the  world.  The  majority  of  them  are  flanked  with  tele- 
graph-poles; for  not  only  are  these  routes  magnificent  speci- 
mens of  man's  triumph  over  nature,  but  the  lightning  also 
is  controlled  here,  and,  swift  as  light,  thought  wings  its  way 
upon  a  metal  wire  through  this  inland  waste,  —  a  marvel 
always  wonderful  and  ever  new.  Nature  has  given  to  these 
scenes  the  trees 
and  rocks  which 
yield  to  nothing 
but  the  wintry 
blasts.  Man 
has  suspended 
here  a  thread 
of  steel,  which 
thrills  respons- 
ive to  the 
thoughts  of 
thousands, 
transmitting 
t  h  r  o  u  g  h  this 
gloomy  gorge 
t  h  e  messages 
of    love,    hope, 

exultation,  or  despair.  Thus  even  here  one  can  never  feel 
completely  isolated.  That  little  wire  enables  one  at  any  point 
to  vanquish  space,  and  by  placing,  as  it  were,  a  finger  on  the 
pulse  of  life,  to  feel  the  heart-beats  of  the  world. 

In  1888,  two  American  gentlemen  were  traveling  in  Norway, 


A    NORWEGIAN    HIGHWAY. 


36  NORWAY 

one  of  whom  grew  depressed  at  his  apparent  isolation  from 
humanity.  His  comrade,  to  astonish  and  console  him,  tele- 
graphed from  one  of  the  post-houses  where  they  had  stopped 
for  dinner,  to  the  American  consul  at  Christiania.  The 
message  which   he  sent  was  this: 


m    ftr* 


j&  ?■ 


APPARENT   ISOLATION. 


"  Who  was  the  Democratic  nominee  for  President  yester- 
day in  Chicago?  " 

Before  the  meal  was  finished,  the  answer  had  arrived: 

"  Grover  Cleveland." 

Some  of  the  roads  on  which  we  traveled  here  are  cut 
directly  through  the  mountains.  We  found  such  tunnels 
quite  agreeable,  since  they  furnished  the  only  genuine  dark- 
ness to  be  found.  So  far  as  light  is  concerned,  one  may  drive 
through  Norway  in  the  summer  just  as  well  by  night  as  by 
day.  Early  and  late  indeed  are  words  which  in  this  region 
grow  meaningless.  I  could  not  keep  a  diary  in  Norway,  so 
difficult   was    it    to    tell  when    yesterday   ended    and    to-day 


NORWAY 


3/ 


began.  At  first  this  seemed  a  great  economy  of  time.  We 
felt  that  we  were  getting  some  advantage  over  Mother 
Nature.  "Why  not  drive  on  another  twenty  miles?"  we 
asked;  "  we  can  enjoy  the  scenery  just  as  well;  "  or,  "  Why 
not     write     a     few  letters  now?   It 

In  fact,  why 

at  all?" 

after 


is  still  light, 
go  to  bed 
But 


A    LAND   OF    PEEl'ETl'AL    SUNLIGHT. 


a    time 

this   everh 

ing  daylight   grew 

a  trifle  wearisome. 

It   thoroughly  demoralized  both  our  brains  and  our  stomachs, 

from  the  unheard    of    hours    it    occasioned     for    eating    and 

sleeping.      Steamers    will    start    in     Norway    at    five    o'clock 

in    the    morning,    or    even    at    midnight.      I    once    sat    down 

to  a  table  d ' hotc   dinner    at   half-past    nine,  and    on    another 

occasion  ate  a  lunch   in  broad   daylight   at   two  o'clock  in  the 

morning.      Moreover,   even  when  we  went  to  bed  the  sun's 


33 


NORWAY 


rays  stole  be- 
tween our  eye- 
lids, and  dis- 
pelled that 
darkness  which 
induces  slum- 
ber.  For, 
strangely 
enough,  there 
are  rarely  any 
blinds  or  shut- 
ters to  Norwe- 
gian windows. 
Only  a  thin, 
white  curtain 
screened  us 
usually  from  the  glare  of  day.  After  a  while,  therefore,  I 
could  sympathize    with  an    American    lady,    whom    I    heard 


NORWEGIAN    BOILDEKS. 


NORWAY 


39 


exclaim,  "  O,  I  would  give  anything  for  a  good,  pitch-dark 
night  twenty -four  hours  long!  " 

One  characteristic  of  these  roads  made  on  my  mind  a 
profound  impres- 
sion, namely,  the 
boulders  that  have 
been  split  off  from 
overhanging  peaks 
by  frost  and  ava- 
lanche. This  is  a 
feature  of  Norwe- 
gian scenery  that 
I  have  never  seen 
equaled  in  the 
world.  Sometimes 
we  drove  through 
such  debris  for  half 
an  hour.  Nor  is 
there  the  least  ex- 
aggeration in  the 
statement  that 
these  boulders  are 
in  many  instances 
as  large  as  a  house  ; 
yet,  when  compar- 
ed with  the  gigan- 
tic cliffs  from  which 
they  came,  even 
such  monsters 
seemed  like  pebbles.  Some  of  fhese  cliffs  were  frightful  in 
appearance.  Again  and  again,  when  we  had  passed  beneath 
some  precipice,  one  third  of  whose  mass  seemed  only  waiting 
for  a  thunder-peal  to  bring  it  down,  my  friend  and  I  would 
draw  a  long,  deep  breath,  and   exchange  glances  of  congratu- 


A   NORWAY   FRF.CIPICE. 


4o 


NORWAY 


A    CHARACTERISTIC    CASCADE. 


lation     when    we     had 
escaped  its  terrors. 

A  still  more  won- 
derful feature  of  Nor- 
wegian scenery  is  found 
in  its  imposing  water- 
falls. Nothing  in  Nor- 
way so  astonished  me 
as  the  unending  num- 
ber and  variety  of  its 
cascades,  —  ribbons  of 
silver,  usually,  in  the 
distance,  but  foaming 
torrents  close  at  hand. 
On  any  of  these  roads, 
halt  for  a  moment  and 
listen,  and  you  will  often  hear  a  sound  like  that  of  the 
surf    upon    the     shore.      It     is     the    voice    of     falling    water. 

On  our  jour- 
ney toward  the 
coast,  during  a 
drive  of  three 
days  we  count- 
ed one  hundred 
and  sixty  sepa- 
rate falls,  and 
eighty  -  six  in 
the  previous 
ten  hours.  This 
was  an  average 
of  more  than 
two  in  every 
fifteen  minutes. 
True,    we     saw 


A  THING   OF    BEAUTY. 


VIEW  NEAR    BORGUND. 


NORWAY 


43 


these  cascades  in  the  month  of  June,  when  snow  was  melting 
rapidly  on  the  heights;  but  even  in  midsummer  they  must 
far  outnumber  those   in   any  other  part   of   Europe. 

In  fact,  although  familiar  with  the  Alps,  and  having  driven 
twice  through  all  the  valleys  of  the  Pyrenees,  I  never  knew 
how  many  waterfalls  one  country  could  possess  until  I  went 
to  Norway.  There  are,  of  course,  magnificent  falls  in  Switzer- 
land, and  a  great  number  of  them  in  the  Pyrenees;  but  where 
you  there  see  one  cas- 
cade, in  Norway  you 
see  twenty  ;  and  many 
a  Norwegian  cataract 
which  would  in  Switz- 
erland draw  thousands 
of  admiring  tourists, 
and  make  the  fortune 
of  hotel  proprietors,  is 
here,  perhaps,  without 
a  name,  and  certainly 
without    renown. 

On  our  last  day's 
journe y  toward  the 
sea,  we  came  in  sight 
of  an  extraordinary 
building,  on  which  we  gazed  in  great  astonishment,  for  it 
seemed  more  appropriate  to  China  than  to  Norway,  and 
was  apparently  completely  out  of  place  in  this  wild, 
desolate  ravine.  It  was  the  famous  Borgund  Church,  a 
place  of  early  Christian  worship,  built  about  eight  hundred 
years  ago.  It  therefore  ranks  (unless  one  other  similar  church 
be  excepted)  as  the  oldest  structure  in  all  Norway.  It  is  so 
small  that  one  could  almost  fancy  it  a  church  for  dwarfs. 
Around  the  base  is  a  kind  of  cloister,  from  which  the  dim 
interior  receives  its  only  light.      Within   is  one  small   room, 


BORGVND   CHVRCH. 


44 


NORWAY 


A    GIRL  OF    NOR\YA\. 


scarcely  forty  feet  long,  con- 
taining now  no  furniture  save 
a  rough-hewn  altar.  As  for 
its  various  roofs  and  pinna- 
cles, marked  now  by  crosses, 
now  by  dragons'  heads,  noth- 
ing could  be  more  weirdly 
picturesque,  especially  as  the 
entire  edifice  is  black, — in 
part  from  age,  but  chiefly 
from  the  coats  of  tar  with 
which  it  has  been  painted  for 
protection. 

Leaving  this  ancient  church, 
we  soon  found  ourselves  in  one 

of  the  most  stupendous  of  Norwegian   gorges.      It  is  hardly 

possible  for  any  view  to  do  it  justice.      But   for  awe-inspiring 

grandeur  I   have   never  seen  its  magnificence  surpassed,  even 

in  the  Via  Mala.      For  miles 

the    r i  v  e  r    Laerdal    makes 

its    way    here     through     gi- 
gantic   cliffs,    which    rise    on 

either   side    to    a    height    of 

from    four   thousand   to  five 

thousand  feet.      The   space, 

however,    between    these 

mountain    sides    is    barely 

wide   enough    for   the   river, 

which  writhes  and   struggles 

with    obstructing    boulders, 

lashing    itself     to     creamy 

foam,  and   filling  the   chasm 

with  a  deafening  roar.     Yet, 

above   the   river,  a   roadway 


AN    OPEN-AIR    BOUDOIR. 


SELTUNSAASEN    IN    LAERDAL. 


NORWAY 


47 


;ding  place. 


has  been  hewn 
out  of  the  moun- 
tain-side itself, 
which  is  lined 
with  parapets  of 
boulders.  When 
marking  out  the 
route  the  engi- 
neers were  often 
lowered  over 
the  precipice  by  ropes.  One  can  imagine  nothing  more 
exciting  than  this  drive.  When  mountains  did  not  actually 
overshadow  us,  in  looking  aloft  we  could  discern  only  a 
narrow  rift  of  sky,  like  a  blue  river,  curbed  by  granite  banks. 
Below  us  was  the  seething  flood,  at  once  terrible  and  glor- 
ious to  look  upon.  Shut  in  by  these  huge,  somber  walls,  we 
followed  all  the  windings  of  the  stream,  whirling  about  their 
corners  at  a  speed  which  seemed  the  more  terrific  from  our 
wild  surroundings.  There  are  few  things  in  life  that  have 
affected  me  so  powerfully  as  the  Laerdal  gorge,  and  I  would 
once  more  go  to  Norway  for  that  drive  alone.  Certain  it  is 
that  at  the  end  of  it  we  found  ourselves  exhausted,  not  phy- 
sically, but  nervously,  from  the  tremendous  tension  and 
excitement  of  the  last  few  hours  in  this  wild  ravine.      Finally, 


LAERDALSOBEN 


48 


NORWAY 


leaving  this  sublime  mountain  scenery,  we  saw  between  us 
and  the  coast  our  destination  —  the  little  town  of  Laerdal- 
soren.  Thrilled  though  we  were  with  memories  of  what  we 
had  just  seen,  and  grateful,  too,  that  our  long  drive  from 
sea  to  sea  had  been  successfully  completed,  our  serious 
reflections  vanished  at  the  threshold  of  this  village.  My 
companion  had  found  it  hard  to  be  so  long  deprived  of 
news  from  home.  Accordingly,  he  remarked  to  me  as  we 
came   in   sight   of   Laerdalsoren : 

"  I  somehow  feel  to-day  a  great  anxiety  about  my  boys, 
William  and  Henry.  I  am  not  superstitious,  but  I  have 
a  presentiment  that  they  need  me.  Hark!"  he  said  sud- 
denly,  "  what  \s  that?  " 

We  stopped  the  vehicle  and  listened.  It  was  the  music 
of  an  English  hand-organ ;  and  I  am  speaking  only  the  literal 
truth  when  I  say  that  the  tune  which  we  then  heard  it  play 
was  that  of  "  Father,  dear  father,  come  home  with  me  now." 


A1T1NG    J-OK    TOURISTS. 


■:_- 


NORWAY 


49 


Early  next  morning  we  left  our  good  hotel  and  hastened 
to  the  steamer  which  awaited  us  upon  the  fjord.  "What, 
precisely,  is  a  fjord?  "  some  may  inquire.  In  briefest  terms, 
it  is  a  mountain  gorge  connected  with  the  ocean,  a  narrow 
arm  of  the  sea  extending  inland,  sometimes  for  one  hundred 
miles.      Moreover,  to  carry  out  the  simile,  at  the  extremity  of 

every   such    Ions- 

arm  are  "  fin- 
gers; "  that  is, 
still  narrower  ex- 
tensions, which 
wind  about  the 
bases  of  the 
mountains  till 
they  seem  like 
glittering  ser- 
pents lying  in 
the  shadow  of 
tremendous 
cliffs. 

Thus   in    one 
sense,    here    at  A  FJ0RD- 

Laerdalsoren,  we  had  reached  the  sea,  but  in  another,  it 
was  still  eighty-five  miles  away.  Yet  we  were  now  to 
embark  on  a  large  ocean  steamer,  lying  but  a  few  yards 
from  the  shore,  for  these  mysterious  fjords  are  sometimes 
quite  as  deep  as  the  mountains  over  them  are  high.  They 
open  thus  the  very  heart  of  Norway  to  the  commerce 
of  the  world.  And  as  our  steamer  glided  from  one  moun- 
tain-girdled basin  into  another,  I  realized  why  this  western 
coast  of  Norway  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  land-forma- 
tions on  the  globe.  If  we  were  able  to  look  down  upon  it 
from  an  elevation,  we  should  perceive  that  from  the  moun- 
tain chain,  which  forms,  as  it  were,  the  backbone  of  the  coun- 


50 


NORWAY 


try,  a  multitude  of  grooves  stretch  downward  to  the  shore 
between  the  elevations,  like  spaces  between  the  teeth  of  a  comb. 
Into  these  mountain  crevices,  formed  in  the  misty  ages  of  the 
past,  the  sea  now  makes  its  way,  continually  growing  narrower, 
until  at  last  it  winds  between  frowning  cliffs  of  fearful  height, 
down  which  stream  numerous  waterfalls,  the  spray  from  which 

at  times  sweeps 
over  the  steamer 
as  it  glides  along. 
Traveling,  there- 
fore, on  these 
ocean  avenues 
is    like     sailing 


AN    ARM    OF   THK    SEA. 

through  Switzer- 
land. 

Delighted  be- 
yond measure 
with  this  new  ex- 
perience, some 
two  or  three 
hours  after  leav- 
ing Laerdalsoren,  we  gradually  approached  the  most  sublime 
of  all  these  ocean  highways, — the  Naerofjord.  No  general 
view  can  possibly  portray  its  grandeur.  The  only  way  to 
appreciate  the  vastness  of  its  well-nigh  perpendicular  cliffs 
is  to  compare  them  with  some  objects  on  the  banks.  In 
many  places,  for  example,  cattle  grazing  on  the  shore,  com- 
pared with  their  giant  environment,  seemed  like  mice,  and  a 
church   steeple   appeared   no   larger  than  a  pine-cone. 

As   we    sailed    further    up    this    beautiful    expanse,    it    was 
difficult   to   realize  that  we   were   floating   on   an   arm   of  the 


SAILING   THROUGH    SWITZERLAND. 


NORWAY 


b  5 


Atlantic.  It  had  the  appearance  rather  of  a  gloomy  lake 
shut  in  by  mountains  never  trodden  by  the  foot  of  man. 
On  either  side  was  a  solemn  array  of  stupendous  precipices  — 
sheer,  awful  cliffs  —  refusing  even  the  companionship  of  pines 
and  hemlocks,  and  frequently  resembling  a  long  chain  of  ice- 
bergs turned  to  stone.  The  silence,  too,  was  most  impressive. 
There  was,  at  times,  no  sign  of  life  on  sea  or  shore.  The  influ- 
ence of  this  was 
felt  upon  the 
boat,  for  if  any 
of  us  spoke,  it 
was  in  a  tone 
subdued  by  the 
solemnity  of  our 
surroundings. 

As  we  pur- 
sued our  way. 
sometimes  we 
could  discern  no 
outlet  whatever; 
then,  suddenly, 
our  course 
would  turn,  and 
another  glorious  vista  would  appear  before  us.  We  sat 
at  the  prow  of  the  boat ;  and  there,  with  nothing  but  the 
awe-inspiring  prospect  to  contemplate,  we  sailed  along  in  silence 
through  this  liquid  labyrinth.  So  close  together  were  the  cliffs, 
that  when,  for  the  sake  of  the  experiment,  I  lay  down  on  the 
deck  and  looked  directly  upward,  I  could  at  the  same  instant 
see  both  sides  of  the  fjord  cutting  their  outlines  sharply  on  the 
sky!  Mile  after  mile,  these  grim,  divided  mountains  stood 
gazing  into  each  other's  scowling  faces,  yet  kept  apart  by  this 
enchanting  barrier  of  the  sea,  as  some  fair  woman  intervenes 
between   two   opposing   rivals,  each    thirsting    for  the  other's 


54 


NORWAY 


blood.      It  is  such  scenery  as  Dante  might  describe  and   Dore 
illustrate.       We    wondered     what    such    ravines    would    look 
like   without  water. 
They  would  be  ter- 
rible   to    gaze 


WALLS   OF   A    FJORD. 

upon.  They  would  resemble 
gashes  in  a  dead  man's  face, 
or  chasms  on  the  surface  of 
the  moon,  devoid  of  atmos- 
phere and  life.  But  water 
gives  to  them  vitality,  and 
lights  up  all  their  gloomy  gorges  with  a  silvery  flood,  much 
as  a  smile  illumines,  while  it  softens,  a  furrowed  face. 


NORWAY 


57 


Nor  is  the 
water  in  these 
fjords  less  mar- 
velous than  the 
land.  Its  depth, 
in  places,  is  es- 
timated at  three 
thousand  feet. 
When  we  sailed 
up  the  Naero- 
fjord,  its  color 
was  so  green, 
and  its  surface 
so  completely 
motionless,  that 
we  seemed  to 
be  gliding  over  a  highway  paved  with  malachite.  Whether 
the  coloring  of  these  ocean  avenues  is  due  to  their  great  depth, 
to  the  crystal  clearness  of  the  atmosphere,  or  to  the  reflection 
of  the  forests  on  their  banks,  certain  it  is  that  I  have  nowhere 
else  (save  in  the  blue  grotto 
at  Capri)  seen  water  tinted 
with  such  shades  of  robin 's- 
egg  blue  and  emerald  green. 
In  confirmation  of  this  fact, 


HEIGHTS    AND    DEPTHS. 


AN   OCEAN    AVENUE. 


NORWAY 


A   SUBLIME   WATERFALL. 


we  noticed  with  astonishment 
that  whenever  the  white  seagulls, 
wheeling  round  our  boat,  would 
sink  breast  downward  toward 
the  waves,  the  color  of  the  sea 
was  so  intense,  that  their  white 
wings  distinctly  changed  their 
hue  in  the  reflected  light,  assum- 
ing a  most  delicate  tint,  which 
gradually  vanished  as  they  rose 
again ! 

After  a  sail  of  several  hours, 
we  approached  the  terminus  of 
the  Naerofjord,  at  which  is  lo- 
cated the  little  hamlet  of  Gudvan- 
gen.  So  narrow  is  the  valley 
here,  that  through  the  winter 
months  no  ray  of  sunlight  falls 
directly  on  the  town,  and  even  in 
the  longest  day  in  summer  it  can 
receive  the  sunshine  only  for  a 
few  hours.  It  seemed  depressing 
to  remain  in  such  eternal  shadow. 
Accordingly,  we  halted  only  a 
few  moments  at  the  place,  and 
taking  a  carriage  which  awaited 
us,  we  drove  beyond  the  village 
into  the  ravine  so  celebrated  for 
its  grandeur — the  Naerodal.  One 
sees  at  once  that  this  is  really  a 
continuation  of  the  Naerofjord 
without  the  water.  There  can 
be  little  doubt  that,  formerly,  the 
ocean  entered   it,    and   one  could 


NORWAY 


61 


then  have  sailed  where  we  now  had  to  drive.  And  what 
is  true  of  the  Naerodal  is  also  true  of  other  such  ravines.  In 
every  case  the  grooved  hollows  continue  inland  and  upward, 
but  the  gradual  elevation  of  the  coast  has  caused  the  ocean 
to  retreat.  This  is  a  place  of  great  sublimity.  On  either 
side  rise  mountains  from  four  to  five  thousand  feet  in  height  — 
sometimes  without  a  vestige  of  vegetation  on  their  precipitous 
sides  —  w  h  i  c  h 
are,  however, 
seamed  with 
numberless  cas- 
cades, appar- 
ently hung  up- 
on the  cliffs  like 
silver  chains. 

The  most 
remarkable  ob- 
ject in  the  val- 
ley we  found  to 
be  a  peculiarly 
shaped  moun- 
tain, called  the 
Jordalsnut.  Its 
form  is  that   of 

a  gigantic  thimble,  and  as  its  composition  is  a  silvery  feld- 
spar, it  fairly  glitters  in  the  sun,  or  glows  resplendent  in  the 
evening  light,  — an  object  never  to  be  forgotten.  Those  who 
have  looked  upon  this  dome  by  moonlight  say  that  the  effect 
is  indescribable;  and,  in  fact,  moonlight  in  these  awful  gorges 
and  fjords  must  give  to  them  a  beauty  even  more  weird  and 
startling  than  that  of  day.  Of  this,  however,  I  cannot  speak 
from  experience,  since  moonlight  is  in  summer  very  faint 
in  Norway,  and  it  is  only  earlier  or  later  in  the  year  that 
one  can  see  this  wonderful  country  thus  transfigured. 


THE    NAERODAL. 


62 


NORWAY 


In  driving  up  the  Naerodal,  one  sees,  at  the  head  of  the 
valley,  what  looks  like  an  irregular  chalk-line  on  a  blackboard. 
It  is  a  famous  carriage-road,  which  has  been  blasted  out  of  the 
mountain-side,  and  built  up  everywhere  with  solid  masonry. 
Even  now  it  is  so  difficult  of  ascent  for  horses  that  every  trav- 
eler who  is  able 
usually  climbs 
that  cur  v i  n g 
road  on  foot. 

In  doing  so, 
we  stopped  at 
intervals  to  en- 
joy the  marvel- 
ous scenery,  and 
especially  to  be- 
hold the  two  at- 
tractive features 
of  the  mountain. 
For  this  grand 
terminus  of  the 
Naerodal  is 
flanked  on  either 
side  by  a  magnif- 
icent waterfall ; 
and  since  the 
path  continually 
curves,  one  or 
the  other  of  these  torrents  is  constantly  visible.  Either  of 
them  is  the  equal  of  any  Swiss  cascade  I  ever  saw,  and  makes 
even  the  famous  Giessbach  sink  into  insignificance,  and  yet 
these  are  not  ranked  among  the  best  Norwegian  specimens. 
We  could  not,  however,  appreciate  them  as  we  should  have 
done  if  they  had  been  the  first  that  we  had  seen;  for  when  a 
tourist    has  counted   eighty-six  cascades  in  one  day's  drive, 


THE  JORDALSNUT. 


NORWAY 


63 


STALHE1M. 


and  has  just  run 
the  gauntlet  of 
some  twenty 
more,  in  sailing 
through  the 
Naerofjord,  he 
becomes  sur- 
feited with  such 
splendor,  and 
cannot  properly 
realize  what  a 
glorious  wealth 
in  this  respect 
Norwegian  scen- 
ery possesses. 

U  p  on      t  h e 
summit  of   the  wooded  cliff   toward  which  this  driveway  leads, 
is   a  speck  which   at   a  distance   resembles  a   white   flag  out- 
lined  on   the   forest   background.      It  is  the   Hotel   Stalheim. 
As  we  approached  it,  a  man  stepped  up  to  us  and  exclaimed: 

"  Hullo,  strang- 
ers;  are  you 
Americans?  " 

' '  I  am  glad  to 
say  that  we  are," 
was  my  reply. 

He  instantly 
stretched  out 
his  hand  and 
said  "  Shake  !"— 
"What  kind  of 
business  are  you 
in  ?  "  lie  present- 


THE   VIEW    KKOM    STALHEIM. 


ly  inquired. 


64 


NORWAY 


THE    KAISER    AT    STALHEIM. 


We  told  him. 
"Well,"  he  re- 
marked, "  I  'm  a 
manufacturer  of  bar- 
rel hoops.  Norway  's 
all  right .  I  took 
an  order  for  forty 
thousand  yesterday. 

At  the  dinner 
table,  where  he  had 
greatly  amused  every 
one  by  his  stories,  he 
suddenly    called    out: 

"  Waiter,  is   there   anything  worth    seeing  on   that  'ere   road 

down  there?  " 

"  It  is  one  of  the  finest  drives  in  Norway,  sir,"  replied  the 

waiter. 

"  Well,  I  reckon  I  '11  have  to  do  it,  then,"  he  ejaculated; 

and     soon    after 

dinner     he     de- 
parted  in  a  car- 

iole.       An   hour 

later,    as    I    was 

sitting     on     the 

piazza  gazing  on 

t  h  e    g  1  o  r  i  o  u  s 

prospect,    I    saw 

him      c  o  m  i  n  g 

back.     "  How  is 

this?"       I       ex- 

c  1  a  i  m  e  d  ;     "I 

thought    you 

were     going     to 

Gudvaneren. " 


A   SCENE   NEAK    STALHEIM. 


A   LOVELY  CASCADE. 


NORWAY 


67 


"  No,"  he  replied;  "  I  got  down  here  apiece,  and  met  a 
boy.  '  Bub,'  says  I,  'what  is  there  to  see  down  here,  any- 
way ? ' 

"  '  Waterfalls,'   said  he. 

"  '  Waterfalls!  '  says  I,  'I  don't  want  any  more  water- 
falls. I  've  seen  ten  thousand  of  them  already.  Why,  our 
Niagara  wouldn't  roar  one  mite  louder,  if  the  whole  lot 
of  these  Norwegian  falls  were  chucked  right  into  it.'  ' 

I  must  not  fail  to  add  that  there  was  an  extremely  pretty 
girl  at  the  hotel,  to  whom  our  eccentric  compatriot  paid  much 
attention.  Some  English  travelers,  therefore,  looked  greatly 
puzzled  when  they  heard  him  say  to  her  on  taking  leave: 
"Good-by!  I  hope  /'//  strike  you  again  somewhere  on  the 
road !  ' ' 

After  supper  that  evening  we  took  an  extended  walk.  It 
was  eleven  o'clock,  and  yet  the  snow-capped  mountains  which 
surrounded  us  were  radiant  with  the  sunset  glow.  We  pres- 
ently encountered    two   young   peasants  returning   from   their 


"  GATES   AJAR." 


68 


NORWAY 


work.  To  them  we  spoke  a  few  Norsk  words  that  we  had 
learned  since  coming  to  Norway,  whereupon  one  of  the  lads 
drew  from  his  pocket  a  pamphlet  and  presented  it  to  me  with 
a  polite  bow.  It  proved  to  be  a  book  of  phrases,  half- Eng- 
lish  and   half-Norsk,  designed   to   help   Norwegian    emigrants 

on  landing  in 
America.  Not 
knowing,  how- 
ex-  er,  what  it 
was  at  first,  I 
opened  it  and 
could  hardly  be- 
lieve my  eyes, 
w hen,  in  this 
lonely  valley  in 
the  heart  of 
Norway,  and  by 
the  light  of  a 
midnight  sun, 
I  read  these 
words:     "  Wake 


ALL    READY    TO  "  SHAKE    HANDS." 


up 


Here  we  are  in  Chicago!"  "Change  cars  for  Omaha 
and  the  West!  "  "  Don't  lean  out  of  the  window,  or  you  '11 
have  your  head  knocked  off! 

Both  of  these  bright  boys  hoped  the  next  summer  to 
"  wake  up  in  Chicago."  It  is,  in  fact,  the  great  desire  of 
Norwegian  youths  to  go  to  America,  and  some  are  brave 
enough  to  do  so  with  a  capital  of  only  twenty-five  dollars. 
Their  knowledge  of  the  United  States  is,  of  course,  limited. 
but  one  place  there  is  known  to  all  of  them.  .Again  and 
again  we  wire  subjected  to  the  following  questions:  "Are 
you  English?  " 

"  No." 

"  Americans  ?  ' ' 


NORWAY 


69 


"Yes." 

"  Chicago?  " 

That  was  the  place  for  them,  evidently.  New  York  is  bet- 
ter than  nothing,  but  Chicago  is  the  El  Dorado  of  the  Scan- 
dinavians, for  to  that  place  they  usually  buy  through-tickets, 
as  to  the  doorway  of  the  great   Northwest. 

Leaving  the  Hotel  Stalheim,  after  a  short  stay,  a  glorious 
drive  awaited  us  down  to  the  Hardanger  Fjord.  At  frequent 
intervals  along  this  route  we  encountered  gates  designed  to 
keep  the  cattle  within  certain  limits.  Women  and  children 
usually  stood  near-by  to  open  them,  expecting  in  return  a 
trifling  payment.  Yet  when  I  offered  them  a  coin,  I  was 
sometimes  surprised  to  see  their  hands  still  lingering  near  my 
own.  At  first  I  thought 
that  they,  like  Oliver  Twist, 
were  asking  for  more,  but 
presently  I  discovered  that 
they  merely  wished  to  shake 
hands  and  say  good-by,  for 
hand-shaking  in  Norway  is 
universal.  If  you  bestow  a 
fee  upon  your  cariole-boy, 
your  boot-black,  or  your 
chambermaid,  each  will  offer 
his  or  her  hand  to  you  and 
wish  you  a  happy  journey. 
A  pleasant  custom,  truly, 
but,  on   the   whole,  it  is  ad- 

1    1  r  1  "NT  A    PEASANT'S    COTTAGE. 

visable   lor  travelers  in  Nor- 
way to  wear  gloves.      I   usually   responded   cheerfully  to  this 
mode   of    salutation,    though    sometimes,   when    I    saw   what 
kind   of  a  hand   the  peasant  "held,"   -I  "passed!" 

As  we  drove  on,  "we  noticed  here  and  there  the  houses  of 
the  poorer  farmers.      They  are  invariably  made  of  wood,  and 


70 


NORWAY 


some,  constructed  out  of  huge  spruce  logs,  look  as  enduring 
as  the  hills  that  surround  them.  The  roofs  are  covered 
first  with  pieces  of  birch-bark,  laid  on  the  logs  like  shingles. 
On  these  are  placed  two  layers  of  sod  —  the  upper  one  with 
its  grassy  surface  toward  the  sky.  This  grass  is  sometimes 
mown  for   hay.      Occasionally  a  homoeopathic  crop  of  grain 

will  grow  here. 
In  almost  every 
case  the  top  of 
the  house  looks 
like  a  flower- 
garden  ;  and  I 
once  saw  a 
bearded  goat 
getting  his 
breakfast  on  his 
master's  roof. 

Occasionally, 
a  little  distance 
from  the  house, 
we  saw  another 
smaller  struc- 
ture, built  be- 
side a  river;  for  the  water-power  of  Norway  is  made  use  of 
in  some  simple  way  by  almost  all  the  country  people.  Many 
a  peasant  has  a  tiny  water-wheel  which  turns  a  grindstone, 
or  even  a  mill,  and  thus  his  scythes  arc  sharpened  and  his 
grain  is  ground  on  his  own  premises.  Such  farmers,  there- 
fore, are  their  own  millers,  and  frequently  their  own  black- 
smiths, too,  and  they  can  shoe  their  ponies  with  consider- 
able skill. 

In  traveling  through  Norway  it  is  most  interesting  to 
observe  how  the  people  utilize  every  available  portion  of  the 
land.      Wire  ropes  extend   from   the   valleys  up  the  mountain 


KL'KAL    LIFE. 


NORWAY 


73 


A    BEAST   OF    BIRDEN. 


sides,  and    are    used    for    letting    down 

bundles  of  compressed   hay,  after  it  has 

been   reaped,   gathered,  and   packed   on 

some  almost   inaccessible  plateau.      On 

elevations,    where     it    seems     well-nigh 

impossible  for  man   to  gain  a  foothold, 

people  will   scramble,  at   the   hazard   of 

their    lives,    to    win   a   living    from    the 

little  earth   that   has  there   found   lodg- 
ment.     Seeing  with  our  own  eyes  these 

habitable  eyries,  we   could    well   believe 

what  we  were  told,  that  goats,  and  even 

children,  are  often  tied  for  safety  to  the 

door-posts,  and   that    the   members  of  a 

family  who  die  on   such   elevated   farms 

are  sometimes  lowered   by  ropes  a  thousand   feet  down  to  the 

valley  or  fjord. 

It  was  on  this  journey  that  I  took  my  first  and  never-to- 
be-forgotten  cariole-ride  in  Norway. 
On  this  occasion,  my  driver  was  a 
small  boy,  ten  years  old,  just  young 
and  mischievous  enough  to  laugh  at 
danger  and  be  reckless.  I  noticed 
that  his  mother  cautioned  him  be- 
fore we  started.  She  evidently 
understood  him.  I  did  not.  Ac- 
cordingly, while  I  took  the  reins,  I 
gave  him  the  whip.  Springing  like 
a  monkey  into  his  place  behind  me, 
he  cracked  his  whip  and  off  we 
went.  The  road  was  good,  and  for 
half  an  hour  I  thoroughly  enjoyed 
it.  Then  we  began  to  descend, 
and  suddenly  dashed  across  a  bridge 


A    FISHING    STATION". 


74 


NORWAY 


beneath  which  was  a  foaming  cataract.  I  naturally  reined 
the  pony  in.  But,  to  my  surprise,  the  more  I  pulled,  the 
faster  went  the  pony.  "Whoa!"  I  exclaimed;  "whoa!" 
but  whether  prolonged  or  uttered  with  staccato  emphasis 
that  word  made  no  apparent  difference  in  the  pony  's  gait. 
"  Whoa,"  was    evidently  not    in    its    vocabulary.       My  hair 


THE    SCENE    OF    AN    ADVENTURE. 


began  to  stand  on  end.  Perceiving  this,  the  demon  of  a 
boy  commenced  to  utter  the  most  unearthly  yells,  and  to 
crack  his  whip  until  he  made  the  pony  actually  seem  to  fly. 

"Go  slowly,"  I  exclaimed.     Crack,  crack,  went  the  whip. 

"Stop  that,  you  young  rascal."  Crack,  crack,  crack!  I 
tried  to  seize  the  whip,  but  my  tormentor  held  it  far  behind 
him.  I  sought  to  turn  and  petrify  him  with  a  look,  but  it 
was  like  trying  to  see  a  fly  between  my  shoulder-blades.  I 
saw  that  I  was  only  making  faces  at  the  mountains. 

To  appreciate  my  feelings,  one  should  perceive  the  wind- 
ing road    along  which    I    was   traveling.      It   was   a   splendid 


NORWAY 


75 


specimen  of  en- 
gineering skill, 
but  after  twen- 
ty-seven of 
these  curves,  1 
felt  that  I  was 
getting  cross- 
eyed. Fancy 
me  perched,  as 
it  were,  upon 
a  good-s  i  zed 
salad-spoon  , 
flying  around 
the  mountain 
side,  with  one 
wheel  in  the  air 
at  every  turn,  at  the  rate  of 
round    the    Horse-shoe    Bend. 


A    CHARACTERISTIC    LANDSCAPE. 


ENGINEERING 


the  Chicago  Limited  going 
I  looked  back  at  my  com- 
panion, whose 
horse,  excited 
by  my  o  w n  , 
was  just  behind 
me.  His  face 
was  deathly 
pale.  Anxiety 
was  stamped 
on  every  fea- 
ture. His  lips 
moved  as  if 
entreating  me 
to  slacken  this 
terrific  speed. 
Finally,  he 
faintly     cried: 


76 


NORWAY 


-""-^'■i:'    :'- 


A    VIKING   SHIP. 


*'  If  you  escape,  .  .  .  give  my 
love  ...  to  my  children,  .  .  . 
William    and    Henry!" 

At  last  I  saw,  some  little 
way  ahead,  a  cart  half-blocking 
the  road.  "Great  heavens!"  I 
thought,  "  here  comes  a  collision! 
Well,  it  might  as  well  end  this  way 
as  any  other.  No  more  lectures 
for  me!"  But,  lo !  there  issued 
from  the  small  boy's  lips  the 
sound,  "  Purr-r-r!  "  The  effect 
was  instantaneous.  The  horse  at 
once  relaxed  his  speed,  and  in  a 
moment  came  to  a  full  stop.  For 
"  purring  "  is  to  a  Norwegian  pony 

what  the  Westinghouse  air-brake  is  to  an  express  train.     This 

secret  learned,  we  had  no  further  trouble.     For  "  purr,"  when 

uttered   by  American   lips,  proved   always  as  effectual   as  by 

Norwegian. 

A  few  hours  after  that  eventful  ride,  we  found  ourselves 

upon    the   great 

Hardangerfjord,       r 

which,  with     its 

branches,    has  a 

length     of    one 

hundred      and 

forty     miles. 

These    ocean 

avenues   possess 

not   merely  nat- 

ural      beauty : 

they    also     have 

historic  interest. 


A    LONEI.\    POINT. 


NORWAY 


79 


This  part  of  Norway,  for  example,  is  old  Viking  ground. 
Not  far  from  here  lived  Rollo,  conqueror  of  Normandy; 
and  from  these  fjords  a  thousand  years  ago  went  forth 
those    dauntless  warriors   of    the    north,    who    for    two    hun- 


AN    ANCIENT    BOAT   OF   NORWAY. 


dred  years  not  only  ravaged  England,  France,  and  Ireland, 
but  even  crossed  the  Atlantic  to  America  hundreds  of  years 
before  Columbus  sailed  from  Spain. 

In  this  connection,  therefore,  let  me  say  that,  to  me,  the 
most  interesting  object  in  Christiania  was  its  Viking  ship.  This 
most  impressive  relic  of  the  past  was  found  some  fourteen  years 
ago  within  an  ancient  mound  beside  the  sea.  It  had  reposed 
there  for  ten  centuries,  owing  its  preservation  to  the  hard,  blue 
clay  in  which  it  was  entombed.  It  was  made  entirely  of  oak, 
and  was  propelled  sometimes  by  oars,  sometimes  by  a  sail. 
Within  it  was  discovered  a  well-carved  wooden  chair,  in  which, 
no  doubt,  the  chieftain  sat.      Some  kettles,  too,  were  here, 


8o 


NORWAY 


and  plates  and  drinking-cups,  used  by  the  Vikings  when  they 
landed  to  prepare  a  meal.  But,  more  remarkable  still,  this 
boat  contained  some  human  bones.  For  in  those  early  days 
such  boats  were  often  used  as  funeral  barges  for  their  brave 
commanders.  The  vessel,  even  when  buried,  was  always 
headed  toward  the  sea,  so  that  when  called  by  Odin  once 
more  into  life,  the  chief  whose  body  was  thus  sepulchered 
might  be  ready  to  start  at  once  and  sail  again  the  ocean  he 
had  loved  so  well. 

Occasionally,  however,  a  Viking  had  a  grander  form  of 
burial.  Sometimes,  when  an  old  Norwegian  chieftain  felt 
that  he  was  dying,  he  ordered  that  his  body,  when  lifeless, 
should  be  placed  within  his  boat,  which  was  then  filled  with 
light  materials  and  set  on  fire.  The  large  sail  was  then  spread, 
and  the  dead  warrior  drifted  out  before  the  wind,  his  gallant 
vessel  for  a  funeral  pyre,  and  for  his  liturgy  the  chanting  of 
the  waves.  As  for  the  Viking  himself,  he  doubtless  had  faced 
death,  sustained  by  an  unfaltering  belief  which,  had  he  been 
more  cultivated,  might  have  thus  expressed  itself: 

"  If  my  bark  sink,  't  is  to  another  sea." 


NORWAY  8 1 

At  the  extremity  of  one  of  the  branches  of  the  Hardanger- 
fjord  is  the  little  town  of  Odde.  This  was  the  only  place  in 
Norway  where  we  had  any  difficulty  in  securing  rooms.  As 
the  boat  neared  the  wharf,  I  heard  a  dozen  ladies  whisper  to 
their   husbands:    "  Now,   dear,  you   stay   and    look    after   the 


A    STKEET    IN    BERGEN. 


luggage,  and  I  '11  run  on  and  get  the  rooms."  Accordingly, 
I  used  the  same  words  to  my  friend,  with  the  exception  of  the 
endearing  epithet.  I  was  afraid  that  might  make  him  home- 
sick.     Then  I  took  my  position  near  the  gang-plank. 

When  we  arrived,  I  was  the  first  to  step  ashore,  and  I 
started  at  a  brisk  walk  toward  the  hotel.  Behind  me  I  could 
hear  the  rustling  of  many  skirts,  but,  hardening  my  heart  like 
Pharaoh,  I  kept  on.  At  last,  forgetting  drapery  and  dignity, 
the  ladies  passed  me  on  the  run.  This  time  I  gallantly  gave 
way,  and  when,  a  moment  later,  I  reached  the  hotel  office, 
I  could  have  fancied  myself  on  the  floor  of  the  Stock  Ex- 
change, since  every  lady  there  was  fighting  nobly  for  her 
children  and  her  absent  lord. 


82 


NORWAY 


"  I  want  two  beds,"  cried  one. 
"  I  wish  for  five  beds,"  screamed  another. 
"  Give  me  a  room  with  blinds,"  exclaimed  a  third. 
The   female   clerk,   meantime,   having  completely  lost   her 
head,  was  calling  off  numbers  like  an   auctioneer.      Suddenly 

she  turned  to 
me,  who  had  not 
yet  opened  my 
mouth,  and  al- 
most paralyzed 
me  with  these 
words : 

"  Number  20 
will  do  for  you, 
three  beds  and 
one    cradle! 

When  I  re- 
covered  from  my 

Stl   *  ■  swoon,    I    found 

that    my    friend 
had    come    up 
quietly  after  the  battle,  and  had  secured  two  single  rooms. 

Saying  farewell  to  Odde,  a  day's  delightful  sail  between 
majestic  mountains  brought  us  to  one  of  Norway's  most 
important  cities — Bergen.  Although  we  lingered  here  three 
days,  we  had  the  wonderful  experience  of  continual  sunshine. 
I  rightly  call  it  wonderful ;  for  Bergen  is  the  rainiest  city  in  the 
world  and  is  sarcastically  called  "The  fatherland  of  drizzle." 
The  people  in  Christiania  claim  that  in  Bergen  when  a  horse 
sees  a  man  without  an  umbrella,  he  shies!  It  is  also  said  that 
a  sea-captain,  who  was  born  in  Bergen,  and  all  his  life  had 
sailed  between  his  native  city  and  the  outer  world,  came  one 
day  into  its  harbor  when  by  chance  the  sun  was  shining. 
At  once  he  put  about  and  set  forth  to  sea  again,  believing  that 


THE    BERGEN    I  ISH    MARKET. 


NORWAY 


35 


he  had  made  a  mistake  in  his  port.  As  we  approached  the 
pier  at  Bergen,  I  saw  what,  in  the  distance,  appeared  to  be 
a  mob.  It  proved,  however,  to  be  the  usual  crowd  which 
gathers  round  the  Bergen  Fish  Market. 

This  is  not,  after  all,  so  strange  if  we  reflect  that  fish  is  the 
great  commodity  of  Bergen,  and  that  this  city  is  the  chief 
distributing  station  for  Norwegian  fish  to  the  entire  world. 
Several  centuries  ago,  a  company  of  German  merchants,  who 
formed  the  famous  Hanseatic  League,  established  themselves 
here  and  held  for  years  within  their  hands  the  monopoly  of 
all  the  fishing  trade  of  Norway,  compelling  even  the  Norwe- 
gian fishermen  to  send  their  catch  of  fish  to  Bergen  for  re- 
shipment  to  other  ports  of  Europe.  It  is  true  the  league 
exists  no  longer, 
but  its  influence 
still  survives, 
and  nothing  can 
divert  the  trade 
from  following 
in  its  ancient 
channel.  Over 
the  hills  that  rise 
above  the  city 
a  splendid  drive- 
way has  been 
made.  A  Bergen 
resident  spoke  of 
it  to  me  as  "  The 
Drink  Road." 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  so  strange  a  title?  "  I  inquired. 

"It  is  so  called,"  he  said,  "because  it  is  constructed 
wholly  out  of  the  profits  derived  from  the  sale  of 'ardent 
spirits."  Observing  my  astonishment,  he  added:  "  Do  you 
not  understand  our  famous  liquor  law  in  Bergen?  " 


F    THE    DEEP. 


86 


NORWAY 


BERGEN  S  "*  DK1NK    ROAD. 


I     confessed 
my  ignorance. 

"Then  let 
me  explain  it 
to  you."  he  ex- 
claimed. "  Per- 
haps I  can  best 
do  this."  he 
added,  "by 
pointing  out  to 
you  that  melan- 
choly individual 
standing  by  the  gang-plank.  He  used  to  be  a  liquor-seller 
here,  but  he  has  lost  his  'spirits,'  for  our  municipal  govern- 
ment now  has  the  sale  of  liquors  entirely  in  its  own  hands. 
It  first  decides  how  many  licenses  are  needed,  and  then, 
instead  of  giving  them  to  private  individuals,  it  grants  them 
only  to  a  responsible  stock  company.  The  books  of  this 
company  must  be  at  all  times  open  to  inspection,  and  all 
its  rules  are  strictly  under  government  control.  Moreover 
the  company  is  not  allowed  to  make  more  than  five  per  cent. 
on  its  invested 
capital.  All 
profits  over  that 
amount  are 
given  to  public 
improvements, 
roads,  parks, 
schools,  or  hos- 
pitals. " 

I  asked  if 
the  law  g  a  v  e 
general  satisfac- 
tion. 


CURING   FISH. 


NORWAY 


87 


"We  are  delighted  with  it,"  was  the  answer.  "It  is 
now  thirteen  years  since  it  was  started,  and  all  the  prominent 
towns  in  Norway,  except  three,  have  followed  our  example. 
The  liquors,  in  the  first  place,  are  all  carefully  selected. 
Secondly,  the  bars  are  not  attractive  gin-palaces,  but  plain 
rooms,  with  no  seats  for  customers.  No  loitering  on  the 
premises  is  allowed.  Only  a  small  amount  is  sold  at  any  one 
time.  Children  are  not  allowed  to  serve  as  messengers. 
Even  the  bar- 
tenders are  ap- 
pointed by  the 
government,  and 
wear  a  uniform 
and  a  number, 
by  which  they 
can  be  easily 
identified  in  case 
of  complaint  ; 
and  as  a  practi- 
cal result,"  he 
added,  "  by  tak- 
ing the  liquor 
traffic  out  of 
the  hands  of 
irresponsible 

agents  the  annual  amount  of  ardent  spirits  sold  has  been 
reduced  from  twelve  and  a  half  to  five  and  a  half  million 
quarts;  and  yet  our  Bergen  company  has  earned  each  year 
a  net  profit  of  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  per  cent,  one 
hundred  and  twenty  of  which  is,  as  I  have  said,  applied  to 
public  charities!  " 

But  to  me  the  most  interesting  sight  in  Bergen  was  the 
grave  of  the  Norwegian  violinist,  Ole  Bull.  His  last  appear- 
ance in  America  was  in  1879  —  to°  l°n&  aS°  perhaps  for  many 


A    BUSY    DAY    IN    BERGEN. 


88 


NORWAY 


to  recollect  him  —  for,  alas !  even  those  who  entertain  the 
public  best  are  soon  forgotten.  But  some  of  my  readers 
no  doubt  recall  that  Paganini  of  the  North,  tall  and  erect. 
with  large  blue  eyes  and  flaxen  hair — the  personification 
of  a  valiant  Norseman,  whose  fire  and  magnetism  in  this  nine- 
teenth century  displayed  themselves  in  music  rather  than  in 
maritime  adventure.  As  his  old  Viking  ancestors  had  no  doubt 
wielded  sword  and  battle-ax.  so  his  bow  was  of  such  unusual 

length  that  no 
one  of  inferior 
strength  and 
stature  could 
have  used  it  ad- 
vantageously. 

From  this 
musician's 
grave  one  looks 
off  over  the 
lovely  bay  of 
Bergen.  This 
peaceful  v: 
which  he  so 
loved,  produced 
upon  my  mind, 
in  the  soft 
evening  light,  the  same  effect  as  did  the  music  of  that  skillful 
hand  which  now  reposed  beneath  the  flowers.  To  me  his 
playing  was  enchanting,  and  unlike  that  of  any  other  violinist 
I  have  ever  heard.  There  was  a  quality  in  the  tones  that  he 
would  call  forth  from  his  violin,  which  seemed  as  weird  and 
fascinating  as  the  poetry  of  the  sagas,  and  as  mysterious  as 
the  light  which  lingered  on  his  mountains  and  fjords.  What 
wonder  that  his  death  in  1880  was  deplored  in  Norway  as  a 
national  calamity  ? 


NORWAY 


«3fc 


Taking  our  leave  reluctantly  of 
Bergen,  we  entered  on  what  proved 
to  be  one  of  the  most  delightful 
features  of  our  tour  in  Norway,  a 
sail  of  twenty-four  hours  along  the 
coast  to  the  town  of  Molde.  How 
can  I  adequately  describe  that 
most  unique  and  memorable 
journey?  Our  entire  course  lay 
through  a  labyrinth  of  islands, 
beyond  which,  every  now  and 
then,  we  gained  a  glimpse  of  the 
Atlantic   rolling   away  toward    the  0LE  BULL" 

horizon.  The  proximity  and  number  of  these  islands  aston- 
ished me.  For,  hour  after  hour,  they  would  come  into 
sight,  wheel  by  us  slowly,  and  then  disappear,  to  be  succeeded 
by  their  counterparts.  We  went  down  to  dinner  or  to  our 
staterooms,  yet  when  we  came  on  deck  again,  islands 
still  surrounded  us.  We  saw  them  glittering  in  the  sunset 
ere  we  went  to  sleep,  and  in  the  morning  we  were  once  more 
environed  by  them.  Sometimes  I  could  have  fancied  that 
they  were  sailing  with  us,  like  a  vast  convoy  of  protecting 
gunboats,  moving  when  we  moved,  halting  when  we  halted, 
patient  and  motionless  till  we  resumed  our  voyage. 

Meantime,  just  opposite  these  islands,  is  the  coast, —  a 
grand  succession  of  bold  headlands  and  dark,  gloomy  moun- 
tains, beyond  which  always   are   still   higher  summits  capped 


NORWAY 


WONDERFUL    PANORAMA. 


with  snow.  At  frequent  intervals  some  beautiful  fjord  leads 
inward,  like  the  entrance  to  a  citadel ;  and  here  and  there, 
within  a  sheltered  nook,  we  see  some  fishing  hamlet  crouch- 
ing on  the  sand.  This  is  surely  the  perfection  of  ocean 
travel.  For,  though  this  mountain-bordered  channel  is  hun- 
dreds of  miles  in  length,  the  sea  within  it  is  as  smooth  as  a 
canal.  Once  only  throughout  the  day  was  the  great  swell 
of    the    Atlantic 


felt,  when  for  a 
little  space  the 
island  break- 
water was  gone. 
Our  sail  along 
the  coast  had, 
late  at  night,  a 
most  appro- 
priate ending  in 
our  arrival  at  Molde.  There  are  few  places  in  the  world 
more  beautiful.  It  lies  upon  the  bank  of  a  fjord,  on  the 
opposite  side  of  which  is  an  array  of  snowy  mountains  forty 
miles  in  length.  Molde  is  sometimes  called  the  "  Inter- 
laken  of  Norway,"  but  that  does  not  by  any  means  describe 
it.  For  here  there  is  no  single  mountain,  like  the  Jungfrau, 
to  compel  our  homage,  but  rather  a  long  series  of  majestic 
peaks,  resembling  a  line  of  icebergs  drifting  in  crystal  splendor 
from  the  polar  sea. 

Filled  with  enthusiasm  over  this  splendid  spectacle,  we 
left  the  steamer,  and  soon  found  ourselves  within  a  com- 
fortable hotel.  It  was  the  hour  of  midnight,  but,  far  from 
being  dark,  the  eastern  sky  was  even  then  brightening  with 
the  coming  dawn.  A  party  of  excursionists  was  just  return- 
ing from  a  mountain  climb.  Some  passengers  were  embarking 
on  the  steamer  we  had  left.  Supper  or  breakfast  (I  know  not 
which  to  call  it)  was  awaiting  us.      Under  such  circumstances 


NORWAY 


9i 


it  seemed  ridiculous  to  go  to  bed.  Accordingly,  we  laughed 
and  chatted  on  the  balcony,  until  a  wretched  man  thrust  out 
his  head  from  an  adjoining  window,  and  remarked : 

"  My  friends,  I  am  glad  to  see  you  happy,  but  I  have  just 
returned  from  the  North  Cape.  I  have  n't  slept  for  eight 
nights.  It  seems  quite  dark  here  by  comparison,  and  I  was 
hopeful  of  a  good  night's  rest.  Would  you  just  as  lief  post- 
pone your  fun  until  you  get  inside  the  arctic  circle?" 

This  pathetic  appeal  could  not  be  resisted,  and  asking  his 
forgiveness,  we  retired. 

Taking  leave  of  Molde  one  pleasant  afternoon,  we  sailed 
across  its  beautiful  fjord  to  explore  the  snow-capped  moun- 
tains opposite.  It  was  upon  this  voyage  that  I  was  taught 
the  bitter  lesson  never  to  trust  my  baggage  to  a  Norwegian, 
merely  because  he  claims  to  be  able  to  speak  English.  Upon 
the  deck  of  our  little  steamer  stood  that  day  a  man,  upon 
whose  hatband  I  read  the  legend  that  he  was  the  proprietor 
of  a  hotel  at  Veblungsnas,  where  we  proposed  to  spend  the 
night.      Approaching  him,  therefore,  I  inquired: 

"  Can  you  speak  English?  " 

He  smiled  upon  me  sweetly,  and  replied,  "  O,  yes." 

Innocent  of  the  awful  fact  that  this  was  the  whole  extent 
of  his  vocabulary,  I  continued: 

"When  we  arrive,  will  you  bring  my  valise  ashore,  while 
I  go  at  once  to  the  hotel  to  secure  rooms?  " 

"O,  yes." 

Ten  minutes  later  we  reached  our  landing  pier.      I  left  the 


92 


NORWAY 


VIEW    PROM    MOLDE. 


boat,  as  I  had  said,  and  hurried  on  to  the  hotel.      I  presently 
beheld  the  old  proprietor  coming  from  the  wharf,  but  without 

my  satchel. 

"  What  does 
this     mean?  "    I 
cried  ;  "  did    you 
not    bring    my 
valise    off    the 
steamer?  " 
"  O,  yes." 
"Where  is  it, 
then?     Is   it   not 
on  there  still?  " 
"  O,  yes." 
"Mercy   on 
me!     Is  not  that 
the    steamer  going   off   with   my  valise   on   board?" 
"  O,  yes!  " 

"  Well,  are  you  not  a  monumental  idiot,  then?  " 
"  O,  yes!  " 

It  took  me  three  days  to  recover  that  valise;  and  the  im- 
portant lesson  of   "  O,  yes,"  was  effectually  learned. 

Early  next  morning  we  took  leave  of  Veblungsnas,  and 
drove  directly  towards  the  Romsdal,  one  of  the  finest  valleys 
in  all  Norway.  Before  us,  like  a  mighty  sentinel,  the  im- 
posing Romsdalhorn  rose,  dark  with  somber  shadows,  to  an 
altitude  of  five  thousand  and  ninety  feet.  The  peak  itself, 
five  hundred  feet  in  height,  is  said  to  be  almost  as  dan- 
gerous to  ascend  as  the  appalling  Matterhorn,  not  only 
on  account  of  its  perpendicular  sides,  but  also  from  the 
crumbling  nature  of  the  rock,  which  renders  it  impossible  to 
fasten  iron  bars  in  its  surface. 

Some  years  ago,  an  English  tourist,  after  a  number  of  un- 
successful   efforts,  finally  reached    the    summit  of  this   moun- 


NORWAY 


93 


tain.  He  was,  of  course,  exultant.  The  inhabitants  of  the 
valley  had  told  him  that  the  conquest  of  the  Romsdalhorn 
was  hopeless,  and  no  tradition  existed  among  them  that  its 
ascent  had  ever  been  made.  Nevertheless,  when  the  success- 
ful climber  finally  stood  upon  the  mountain's  crest,  he  found 
to  his  astonishment  and  regret  that  he  was  not  the  first 
man  who  had  gained  this  victory.  A  mound  of  stones, 
heaped  up  there  as  a  monument,  proved  beyond  doubt  that 
at  some  unknown  epoch  some  one  had  been  there  before  him. 
Driving  around  the  base  of  this  majestic  mountain,  we 
found  ourselves  within  a  narrow  gorge  shut  in  by  savage 
cliffs,  with  barely  space  enough  between  them  for  the  carriage- 
road  and  a  wild  torrent  rushing  toward  the  sea.  One  wall  of 
this  ravine  is  singu-  _^^^.,^_  larly     weird     and 


THE    ROMSDALHOKN. 


94 


NORWAY 


pinnacles,  splintered  and  shattered  by  the  lightning's  bolts, 
stand  out  in  sharp  relief  against  the  sky,  as  if  some  monsters, 
hidden  on  the  other  side,  were  raising  o'er  the  brink  of  these 
stupendous  precipices  their  outstretched  hands  and  tapering 
fingers  in  warning  or  in  supplication.  These  strange,  fantastic 
forms  are  in  the  evening  light  so  ghostly  and  uncanny,  that  they 
appear  to  the  Norwegian  peasants  like  demons  dancing  glee- 
fully upon  the 
mountain  tops. 
Hence  the  pin- 
nacles are  called 
the  "Witches' 
Peaks." 

It  was  while 
riding  through 
this  gorge  that 
I  heard  a  tour- 
ist complaining 
that  N  o  rway 
had  no  ruins. 
In  one  sense 
this  is  true,  for, 
owing  to  the  fact 
that  the  feudal  system  never  existed  here,  castles  and  strong- 
holds are  nowhere  to  be  found.  But  Norway  surely  can  dis- 
pense with  any  crumbling  works  of  man.  Amidst  the  ruins 
of  her  everlasting  mountains  and  stupendous  fjords,  grooved 
by  the  glaciers  when  the  earth  was  young,  all  remnants 
of  man's  handiwork  would  seem  like  ant-hills  made  but  an 
hour  ago. 

Toward  evening,  at  the  head  of  the  Romsdal  Valley,  we 
reached  the  station  of  Stuflaaten,  where  we  were  to  sleep. 
Our  spirits  sank  as  we  approached  it.  Nothing,  apparently, 
could  be  less  inviting.      But  here,  as  in  so  many  other  instances, 


THE    WITCHES     PEAKS. 


NORWAY 


95 


STL'FLAATEN. 


we     found     the 

accommodations 

excellent.      It   is 

true,     the     beds 

possessed     the 

usual  Norwegian 

fault — an  insuffi- 
cient     length. 

Tall      travelers, 

who    object    to 

having     their 

limbs     closed 

under     them     at 

night,   like    the   blades   of   a    jack-knife,   frequently   sleep    on 

the  floor  in  Norway. 

"  I  cannot  lie  in  one  of  these  beds,"  exclaimed  my  friend; 

which,  for  a  lawyer,  seemed  to  me  a  remarkable  admission! 
Never  shall  I  forget  the  dining-room  at  Stuflaaten.      Here 

we  were  first   attracted  by  the  fireplace.      It    was   a  chimney 

built  out  from  the  corner,  with  space  behind  for  a  warm  cup- 

board.  The 
opening  for  fuel 
was  so  narrow 
that  sticks  were 
placed  upright 
upon  the  hearth. 
Beside  this  were 
two  rocking- 
chairs  (almost 
unheard  of  lux- 
uries in  any  part 
of  Europe),  and 
sinking  into 
these,  we  thought 


96 


NORWAY 


of  home.      The  influence  of  that  American  article  of  furniture 
was,  I  fear,  depressing,  for  soon  my  friend  remarked : 

"How  far  we  are  from  dear  New  England!  If  I  could 
only  see  one  object  here  which  really  came  from  there,  how 
happy  I  should  be !  " 

"  Look  at  that  clock  upon  the  wall,"  I  responded;  "  that 
has  a  familiar  look.  Perhaps  that  came  from  '  dear  New 
England  !  '  " 

"Nonsense,"  he  answered;  "  how  could  anything  made 
,.„,,,».      —  «      in   New  England 

find  its  way  here 
almost  within  the 
Arctic  circle?  " 

"Well,"  I  ex- 
claimed, "where 
is  the  land  that 
Yankee  inven- 
tions have  not 
entered?  Let  us 
put  it  to  the 
test."  Accord- 
ingly, stepping  to  the  clock,  I  opened  it  and  read  these  words: 
"  Made  by  Jerome  &  Co.,  New  Haven,  Conn." 

Returning  once  more  through  the  Romsdal,  Veblungsnas, 
and  Molde,  we  sailed  again,  for  twelve  hours,  along  the  Norway 
coast  to  reach  the  city  of  Trondhjem.  Although  less  beauti- 
fully situated  than  Bergen,  Molde,  or  Christiania,  in  point  of 
historic  interest,  Trondhjem  is  superior  to  them  all.  For  here 
lived  the  old  Norwegian  kings,  and  the  town  can  boast  of  a  con- 
tinuous existence  for  a  thousand  years.  It  also  enjoys  the  proud 
distinction  of  having  the  most  northern  railway  station  in  the 
world,  for  from  this  city,  which  is  in  the  latitude  of  Iceland, 
a  railroad  now  extends  three  hundred  and  fifty  miles  south- 
ward to  Christiania. 


NORWAY 


97 


Upon  this  road  are  run  some 
cars  which  are  facetiously  called 
"sleepers";  but  they  are  such  as 
Mr.  George  M.  Pullman  would  see  only  in 
an  acute  attack  of  nightmare.  The  road 
being  a  narrow-gauge  one,  the  car  is  not  much  wider  than  an 
omnibus.  The  berth  (if  the  name  can  be  applied  to  such  a 
coffin-like  contrivance)  is  formed  by  pulling  narrow  cushion- 
seats  together.  On  these  is  placed  one  pillow,  but  no  blanket 
and  no  mattress, — simply  a  pillow, — nothing  more!  From  the 
feeling,  I  should  say  that  my  pillow  consisted  of  a  small  boulder 
covered  with  cotton.  But  what,  think  you,  is  the  upper  berth? 
It  is  a  hammock,  swung  on  hooks,  and  sagging  down  to  within 
a  foot  of  the  lower  couch.  Now,  it  requires  some  skill  to  get 
into  a  hammock  anywhere;  but  to  climb  into  one  that  is  hung 
four  feet  above  the  floor  of  a  moving  railroad  car,  calls  for  the 


A    RAILWAY    STATION. 


98 


NORWAY 


A    NORWEGIAN    HARBOR. 


agility  of  an  acrobat.  After  my  experience  that  night,  I  feel 
perfectly  qualified  to  perform  on  the  trapeze,  for  since  I  weighed 
but  one  hundred  and  forty  pounds,  while  my  friend  tipped  the 

scales  at  two 
hundred  and 
fifty,  I  thought 
it  was  safer  for 
me  to  occupy 
the  upper  story. 
Another  diffi- 
culty met  with 
in  that  memora- 
ble journey  was 
to  keep  covered 
up.  There  was 
no  heat  in  the  car.  At  every  respiration,  we  could  see  our 
breath.  This  was,  however,  a  consolation,  since  it  assured 
us  that  we  were  still  alive.  Wraps  of  all  kinds  were  needed, 
but  the  space  was  limited.  There  was,  for  example,  in  my 
hammock,  room  for  myself  alone ;  or  without  me,  for  my 
traveling-rug,  overcoat,  and  pillow.  But  when  we  were 
all  in  together,  the  hammock  was  continually  overflowing. 
Accordingly,  every  fifteen  minutes  during  that  awful  night, 
my  friend  would  start  up  in  abject  terror,  dreaming  that  he 
was  being  buried  beneath  a  Norway  avalanche. 

I  never  think  of  Trondhjem  without  recalling,  also,  an 
experience  in  a  Norwegian  barber-shop.  I  knew  that  it  was 
tempting  Providence  to  enter  it,  for  shaving  in  Norway  is 
still  a  kind  of  surgical  operation.  But  for  some  time  a  cold- 
ness had  existed  between  my  razors  and  myself.  The  edge 
of  our  friendship  had  become  dulled.  Accordingly,  I  made 
the  venture.  Before  me,  as  I  entered,  stood  a  man  witli  a 
head  of  hair  like  Rubenstein's,  and  a  mouth  like  a  miniature 
fjord. 


NORWAY 


101 


"  Do  you  speak   English?  "  I  began. 

"  Nay." 

"  Sprechen  sie  Deutsch?  " 

"  Nay." 

"  Parlez-vous  Francais?" 

"  Nay." 

"  Parlate  Italiano?  " 

"  Nay." 

"Well,  one  thing  is  sure,  then,"  I  said;  "  you  will  not  talk 
me  to  death,  anyway!  " 

Having  made  the  most  graceful  gestures  of  which  I  was 
capable  to  indicate  what  I  wanted,  I  settled  myself  in  a  hard 
chair  and  laid  my  head  against  a  rest  resembling  the  vise  fur- 
nished by  a  photographer  when  he  asks  you  "  to  look  pleas- 
ant." The  preliminaries  being  over,  the  Norwegian  Figaro 
took  his  razor  and  made  one 
awful  never  -  to  -  be  -  forgotten 
swoop  at  my  cheek  as  if  he 
were  mowing  grain  with  a 
scythe !  I  gave  a  roar  like 
a  Norwegian  waterfall  and 
bounded  from  the  chair  in 
agony !       When     I     had     fully 


wiped     away     my     blood     and 
tears,  I  asked  him  faintly : 

"  Have  you  any  ether?  " 

"  Nay." 

"  Any  laughing-gas?  " 

"  Nay." 

"  Any  cocaine?  " 

"  Nay." 

"Well,  then,"  I  exclaimed,  "will  you  please  go  over 
there  and  '  nay  '  by  yourself  while  I  finish  this  operation  with 
my  own  hands?  " 


A    VILLAGR    MAIDEN. 


102 


NORWAY 


He  seemed  to  understand  me,  and  retreated  to  a  corner. 
When  all  was  over,  he  pointed  to  a  bowl  at  which  I  saw 
my  friend  gazing  with  that  peculiarly  sad  expression  which  he 
invariably  assumed  when  thinking  of  his  family.  I  soon  dis- 
covered the  cause,  for  from  the  centre  of  this  wash-bowl  rose 
a  little  fountain  about  a  foot  in  height,  which  seemed  to 
him  a  facsimile  of  the  one  on  Boston  Common.      I  compre- 


ENTRANCE   TO   A    FJORD. 


hended  that  I  was  to  wash  in  this  fountain  ;  but  how  to  do 
it  was  a  mystery.  At  last  I  cautiously  thrust  one  side  of  my 
face  into  it,  and  instantly  the  water  shot  up  over  my  car  and 
fell  upon  the  other  side.  I  turned  my  face,  and  the  ascending 
current  carromed  on  my  nose,  ran  down  my  neck,  and  made 
a  change  of  toilet  absolutely  necessary.  When,  therefore, 
my  friend  had  called  a  cab  to  take  me  home,  I  asked  the 
barber  what  I  should  pay  him.  By  gestures  he  expressed  to 
me  the  sum  equivalent  to  three  cents. 

"What,"  I  exclaimed,  "nothing  extra  for  the  court- 
plaster?  " 

"  Nay." 

"  And  nothing  for  the  privilege  of  shaving  myself?  " 

"  Nay." 

"And  you  don't  charge  for  the  fountain,  either'  " 


NORWAY 


103 


"  Nay." 

"Well,"  I  exclaimed  as  I  rode  away,  "I  can  truly  say 
that  never  before  have  I  received  so  much  for  my  money." 

This  city  of  the  north  has  one  extremely  interesting 
building — its  cathedral.  As  a  rule,  Scandinavian  churches  are 
not  worth  a  visit ;  but  this  is  a  notable  exception.  More 
than  three  hundred  years  before  Columbus  landed  on  San 
Salvador  this  building  held  a  proud  position.  Its  finest  carv- 
ing dates  from  the  eleventh  century.  At  one  time  pilgrims 
came  here  from  all  northern  Europe,  and  laid  their  gold  and 
jewels  on  its  shrines.  But  at  the  period  of  the  Reformation  all 
this  was  changed.  Iconoclasts  defaced  its  carving,  cast  down 
its  statues,  sacked  the  church,  and  packed  its  treasures  in  a 
ship,  which,  as  if  cursed  by  an  offended  Deity,  foundered 
at  sea. 

On  entering  the  ancient  edifice,  we  were  delighted  with  its 
delicate  stone-tracing.  The  material  is  a  bluish  slate,  which 
gives  to  the  whole  church  a  softness  and   a  beauty  difficult   to 


•*■"*' 


104 


NORWAY 


equal,  and  blends  most  admirably  with  its  columns  of  white 
marble.  A  part  of  the  cathedral  was,  however,  closed  to  us, 
for  all  the  ruin  once  wrought  here  is  being  carefully  effaced 
by  systematic   restoration.      The  government   contributes  for 


this  purpose  a  certain 
sum  every  year,  and  pri- 
vate individuals  help  on 
the  work  from  genuine 
love  of  art,  as  well  as  from 
patriotic  motives.  The 
old  designs  are  being  followed, 
and  hence,  in  time,  this  old 
cathedral  will  in  every  feature  come  to  be  a  reproduction  of 
the  original  structure. 

A  few  days  after  reaching  Trondhjem,  we  found  ourselves 
embarking  for  another  ocean  journey.  This  time  our  desti- 
nation was  the  northern  limit  of  the  continent.  For  a  Nor- 
wegian tour  naturally  divides  itself  into  three  parts.  The  first 
consists    of    driving    through    the    mountainous   interior;   the 


NORWAY 


IO: 


second  is  the  ex- 
ploration of  its 
noble  fjords; 
the  third  is  the 
voyage  from 
Trondhjem  to 
the  North  Cape. 
This  voyage, 
in  fast  excursion 

steamers,  is  now  VN  excursion  steamer. 

made  in  about  four  days,  an  equal  number  being  occupied  in 
returning.  "  Eight  days?  "  the  reader  will  perhaps  exclaim; 
"  why,  that  is  longer  than  a  voyage  across  the  Atlantic."  In 
actual  duration,  yes;  but  otherwise  the  two  excursions  are 
entirely  different.  For  almost  all  the  way  you  follow  so 
closely  the  fringe  of  islands  that  there  is  little  danger  of 
rough  weather,  while  the  mainland  is  constantly  in  sight. 

Some  twenty-four  hours  after  leaving  Trondhjem,  our 
steamer  halted  at  an  island,  up  whose  precipitous  side  we 
climbed  five  hundred  feet  to  view  a  natural  tunnel  perfo- 
rating an  entire  mountain.  Through  this  we  gained  a  charm- 
ing telescopic  vista  of  the  ocean  and  its  island  belt.  The  tun- 
nel is  six  hundred  feet  in  length,  and  in  some  places  two  hun- 
dred feet  in  height.  So  smooth  and  perpendicular  are  its 
walls,  that    it   appears  almost   incredible  that   human    agency 

has  not  assisted 
in  this  strange 
formation.  But 
scientists  say 
that  it  w  a  s 
accomplished 
entirely  by  the 
waves,  when  all 
this    rock-bound 


io6 


NORWAY 


coast  was  covered  by  the  sea.  Leaving  this  curious  freak  of 
nature,  another  memorable  feature  of  our  northern  voyage 
soon  greeted  us, — the  Loffoden  Islands.  These  form  a 
broken  chain  one  hundred  and  thirty  miles  in  length.  The 
scenery  in  their  vicinity  is  perhaps  the  finest  on  the  Norway 
coast,  and  as  we  watched  it  with  delight,  the  captain  told  us 
of  his  voyages  here  in  winter,  and  I  now  learned,  to  my  aston- 
ishment, that    freight-steamers    make    their   regular  trips,  all 


FISHING    ON    THE   COAST. 


winter  long,  round  the  North  Cape  to  Vadso,  on  the  Arctic 
coast.  They  encounter  fearful  storms  at  times,  but  rarely  any 
icebergs.  We  have,  it  seems,  a  monopoly  of  these  floating 
monsters  on  our  side  of  the  Atlantic,  borne  west  and  south 
by  the  current  off  the  coast  of  Greenland. 

Of  course,  these  wintry  voyages  are  performed  in  dark- 
ness, for  Night  then  reigns  here  with  as  much  supremacy  as 
Day  in  summer.  The  lights  on  the  steamers  are,  therefore, 
kept  constantly  burning.  Yet,  strange  to  say,  this  is  the 
period  of  greatest  activity  among  these  islands.  Winter  is  the 
Norwegian  fisherman's  harvest-time.      The   only  light  neces- 


SCENE    FROM    BROTHANSDALEN. 


NORWAY 


109 


sary  to  carry  on 
the  work  is  that" 
of  the  Aurora 
Borealis  and  the 
brilliant  stars. 
From  twenty  to 
twenty-five  mil- 
lions of  cod  are 
captured  here 
each  winter, 
and  twenty-five 
thousand   people 

are  employed   in      *^HeI  .    .  _.  J 

the  trade. 

Soon  after  leaving  the  Loffodens  we  arrived  at  Tromso, 
the  city  of  the  Lapps.  It  had  the  appearance  of  a  pretty 
village  as  we  viewed  it  from  a  distance;  but  soon  the  sense 
of  sight  was  wholly  lost  in  the  prominence  given  to  an- 
other of  our  senses.  The  carcass  of  a  whale  was  floating  in 
the  harbor.  It  had  been  speared  and  towed  in  hither  to  be 
cut  in  pieces.  The  blubber  was  being 
boiled  in  kettles  on  the  shore.  The 
impression  which  this  made  on  my 
olfactory  nerves  is  something  for  which 
language  is  inadequate.  The  odor  was 
as  colossal  as  the  fish  itself.  I  never 
sympathized  sufficiently  with  Jonah  till 
I  went  to  Tromso  ! 

Soon    after  landing  here,  a  walk  of 
an  hour  brought  us   to  a  settlement  of 
Lapps,   consisting   of  some   very  primi- 
fc.^2  (S     ^K  tive  tents.      My  first  impression  of  these 

people  was,  and  still  is,  that  any  one  of 
them    could    have    effectually  concealed 

LAPLANDERS.  ' 


no 


NORWAY 


.*\.. 


REINDEER 
AND   SLEDGE 


his  identity  by 
taking  a  bath. 
They    all     have 

dirty,  wizened  faces,  high  cheekbones,  flat  noses,  and  mouths 
that  yawn  like  caverns.  Their  beards  are  so  peculiarly  tufted 
that  they  look  like  worn-out  Astrachan  fur.  I  could  almost 
suppose  that  in  rigorous  winters  the  reindeer,  while  their  mas- 
ters slept,  had   nibbled   at   their  cheeks.      The  men  are  about 

five  feet  high,  the  women  four; 
but  they  are  tough  and  hardy, 
like  most  dwarfs.  Dickens 
could  have  found  among  them 
countless  models  for  his  hid- 
eous Quilp. 

Advancing  to  one  of  their 
huts,  we  peered  into  the  in- 
terior. Upon  the  ground  was 
smoldering  a  small  fire,  part 
of  the  smoke  from  which  es- 
caped through  an  opening  in 
the  roof.  The  inmates  scarcely 
noticed  us,  until  my  artist  pro- 


A    LITTLE   LAPP. 


NORWAY 


1 1 1 


duced  his  camera.  Then  there  was  instantly  a  general  stampede. 
One  woman  seized  her  baby  and  rushed  forth,  as  if  a  demon 
had  molested  her.  The  cause  of  this  confusion,  however,  was 
not  fear,  nor  even  modesty,  but  avarice,  pure  and  simple. 
They  understood  perfectly  what  the  camera  was,  and  wanted 
a  good   price   for  being   photographed.      Three  shillings   was 


LIFE    IN    LAPLAND. 


at  first   demanded  for  a  picture,  but   finally  we    compromised 
by  giving  half  that  sum. 

Among  these  Laplanders,  the  clothing  of  both  men  and 
women  is  made  of  reindeer  skin,  worn  with  the  hardened  pelt 
outside.  These  garments  last  indefinitely,  and  are  sometimes 
bequeathed  from  one  generation  to  another.  The  Lapp  com- 
plexion looks  like  leather.  Even  the  babies  have  a  shriveled 
look,  resembling  that  of  monkeys.  This  is  not  strange,  how- 
ever, for  both  men  and  women  are  great  consumers  of 
tobacco.  Their  huts  are  always  full  of  smoke,  till  finally  the 
inmates  become  smoke-dried  within  and  without.  This,  in 
turn,  produces  thirst.  Hence  we  were  not  surprised  to  learn 
that  they   are  inordinately   fond   of  ardent  spirits.      In    fact, 


I  12 


NORWAY 


when  a  Norwegian  wishes  to  remonstrate  with  a  friend  who  is 
inclined  to  drink  to  excess,  he  will  often  say  to  him,  "  Don't 
make  a  Lapp  of  yourself! 

Bidding  farewell  to  Tromsd  and  the  Laplanders,  the  next 
day  brought  us  to  the  most  northern  town  in  the  world  — 
Hammerfest.  It  was  a  great  surprise  to  me  to  see,  in  such 
proximity  to  the  North  Pole,  a  town  of  about  three  thousand 
inhabitants,  with  schools,  a  church,  a  telegraph  station,  and  a 
weekly  newspaper!  The  snow-streaked  mountains  in  the  dis- 
tance gave  me  the  only  hint  of  winter  that  I  had;  and  I  could 
hardly  realize  that  I  was  here  two  hundred  miles  farther  north 
than  Bering's  Strait,  and  in  about  the  same  latitude  in  which, 
on  our  side  of  the  Atlantic,  the  gallant  Sir  John  Franklin 
perished  in  the  ice.  The  cause  of  this,  however,  is  not  diffi- 
cult to  trace. 

The  influence  of  the  Gulf  Stream  is  felt  powerfully 
even  here.  For  here  it  is  that  the  great  ocean  current  prac- 
tically dies,  bequeathing  to  these  fishermen  of  Hammerfest,  for 


HAMMERFEST. 


NORWAY 


ii3 


THE   Gil  F    STREAM'S   TERMINUS. 


their  firewood,  the  treasures  it  has  so  long  carried  on  its  bosom, 
such  as  the  trunks  of    palm-trees,  and   the  vegetation   of  the 

tropics.  It  is  an 
extraordinary 
fact  that  while 
the  harbor  of 
Christiania,  one 
thousand  miles 
farther  south, 
is  frozen  over 
three  months 
every    winter, 

this    bay    of    Hammerfest,    only  sixty  miles    from    the    North 
Cape,  is  never  closed  on  account  of  ice. 

An  interesting  object  in  Hammerfest  is  the  meridian  shaft, 
which  marks  the  number  of  degrees  between  this  town  and 
the  mouth  of  the  Danube,  on  the  Black  Sea.  The  mention 
made  upon  this  column  of  that 
other  terminus  of  measure- 
ment, so  far  distant  in  the 
South  of  Europe,  reminded  us 
by  contrast  of  one  more  ad- 
vantage which  this  high  lati- 
tude possesses  —  the  greater 
rapidity  of  its  vegetation. 
When  the  sun  once  appears 
within  this  polar  region,  it 
comes  to  stay.  Nature  im- 
mediately makes  amends  for 
her  long  seclusion.  For  three 
months  the  sunshine  is  well- 
nigh  incessant.  There  is  no 
loss  of  time  at  night.  The  flowers  do  not  close  in  sleep.  All 
vegetation  rushes  to  maturity.      Thus  vegetables  in  the  Arctic 


THE    MERIDIAN    SHAFT. 


114 


NORWAY 


circle  will  sometimes  grow  three  inches  in  a  single  day,  and 
although  planted  six  weeks  later  than  those  in  Christiania, 
they  are  ready  for  the  table  at  the  same  time. 

Sailing  finally  from  Hammerfest,  a  voyage  of  seven   hours 
brought  us  to  our   destination  —  the    North   Cape.      I   looked 

upon  it  with  that 
passionate  eager- 
ness born  of  long 
years  of  anticipa- 
tion, and  felt  at 
once  a  thrill  of 
satisfaction,  in 
the  absence  of 
all  disappoint- 
ment. For  my 
ideal  of  that 
famous  promon- 
tory could  not  be 
more  perfect- 
ly realized  than 
in  this  dark- 
browed,  majestic 
headland,  rising  with  perpendicular  cliffs,  one  thousand  feet 
in  height,  from  the  still  darker  ocean  at  its  base.  It  is,  in 
reality,  an  island,  divided  from  the  mainland  by  a  narrow 
strait,  like  a  gigantic  sentinel  stationed  in  advance  to  guard 
the  coast  of   Europe  from  the  Arctic  storms. 

Embarking  here  in  boats,  we  drew  still  nearer  to  this 
monstrous  cliff.  From  this  point  it  resembles  a  stupendous 
fortress  surmounted  by  an  esplanade.  For  in  that  prehis- 
toric age,  when  northern  Europe  was  enveloped  in  an  icy 
mantle,  huge  glaciers  in  their  southward  march  planed  down 
its  summit  to  a  level  surface.  The  climbing  of  the  cliff, 
though  safe,  is  quite  exhausting.       Ropes  are,  however,  hung 


NORWEGIAN    II  HI:  A. 


NORWAY 


11/ 


at  different  points,  and,  holding  on  to  these,  we  slowly  crept 
up  to  its  southern  parapet.  Thence  a  laborious  walk  of  fif- 
teen minutes  brought  us  at  last  to  the  highest  elevation, 
marked  by  a  granite  monument  erected  to  commemorate 
King  Oscar's  visit  to  the  place  in    1873. 

It  is  a  wonderfully  impressive  moment  when  one  stands 
thus  on  the  northern  boundary  of  Europe,  so  near  and  yet  so 
far  from  the  North  Pole.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  the  outer- 
most limit  of  our  planet  had  been  reached.  Nowhere,  not 
even  in  the  desert,  have  I  felt  so  utterly  remote  from  civiliza- 
tion, or  so  near  to  the  infinitude  of  space. 

But  presently  from  our  steamer,  anchored  near  the  base, 
some  rockets  rose  and  burst  in  fiery  showers  far  below  us.  It 
was  a  signal  for  us  to  be  on  our  guard.  I  looked  at  my 
watch.  It  was  exactly  five  minutes  before  midnight.  Advan- 
cing, therefore,  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  I  looked  upon  a  unique 
and  never-to-be-forgotten  scene.  Below,  beyond  me,  and  on 
either    side,     lay  in   sublime  and  aw- 

ful    solitude       ^^^^  ""v,»s^       the  Arctic  sea, 

stretch-        ^^^  ^^        ing    away 


NORTH   CAPE. 


uS 


NORWAY 


STUPENDOUS   CLIFFS. 


ance  born  of  the  twilight  and 
the  waters  like  a  benediction; 
and  beaut}-,  when  I  looked 
shoulder  of  the 
globe,  I  saw  the 
Midnight  Sun. 
At  this  great 
height  and 
northern  lati- 
tude it  did  not 
sink  to  the  hori- 
zon, but  merely 
paused,  appar- 
ently some  twen- 
ty feet  above  the 
waves,  then 
gradually  rose 
again.  It  was 
the  last  of  count- 


to  that  still  un- 
discovered re- 
gion of  the 
north,  which, 
with  its  fatal 
charm,  has  lured 
so  many  brave 
explorers  to 
their  doom. 

Straight  from 
the  polar  sea, 
apparently,  the 
wondrous  north- 
ern light  (an 
opalescent  radi- 

the  dawn)  came  stealing  o'er 
and    to  enhance  its   mystery 

northward    over    the    rounded 


THE    MIDNIGHT   SL*N. 


NORWAY 


119 


less  sunsets  which  had  that  day  been  following  each  other 
round  the  globe.  It  was  the  first  of  countless  sunrises  which, 
hour  after  hour,  in  so  many  continents  would  wake  to  life 
again  a  sleeping  world.  I  have  seen  many  impressive  sights 
in  many  lands,  but  nothing,  until  Time  for  me  shall  be  no 
more,  can  equal  in  solemnity  the  hour  when,  standing  on  this 
threshold  of  a  continent,  and  on  the  edge  of  this  immeasur- 
able sea,  I  watched,  without  one  moment's  interval  of  dark- 
ness, the  Past  transform  itself  into  the  Present,  and  Yesterday 
become  To-day. 


king  oscar's  monument  —  north  cape. 


K.   DONNELLEY  &  SONS  CO. 
CHICAGO. 


GETTY  CENTER  LIBRARY 


3  3125  00139  6320 


LECTURE  II 


ATHENS  and  VENICE 


In  this  lecture  Mr.  John  L.  Stoddard  transports  to  the 
shores  of  the  Mediterranean  the  readers  who  have  been  his  com- 
panions in  Norway.  The  picturesque  fjord  gives  place  to  the 
languid  canal,  and  the  long  stretch  of  Northern  Water  is  exchanged 
for  the  classic  iEgean.  In  Athens  and  Venice  every  structure  has 
a  history  and  every  spot  a  legend.  Architectural  masterpieces 
abound  and  make  good  the  lack  of  scenery,  such  as  environed  us 
on  our  way  to  view  the  Midnight  Sun.  In  Mr.  Stoddard's 
company  we  recall  much  of  Venetian  and  Athenian  history,  and 
in  a  very  pleasing  way  are  brought  to  associate  the  existing  monu- 
ments of  two  famous  cities  with  their  roles  in  the  grand  drama  of 
History. 

121    Illustrations 

elegant  reproductions  of  Mr.  Stoddard's  own  photographs  embel- 
lish the  masterly  text,  and  make  us  familiar  with  the  appearance 
of  historic  sites  and  scenes. 

The  .Lecture  on  Athens-Venice  will  be  sent,  postpaid, 
on  receipt  of  the  special  introductory  price  charged  for  Mr. 
Stoddard's  Lecture  on  Norway. 


THE  LAKESIDE  TRESS,    R.    R.    DONNELLEY   &   SONS   COMI  ANY,   PRINTERS,   CHICAGO. 


